Nightlock
by ernesto
Summary: If you weren't ready for the adventures of Katniss, Peeta, and Gale to end, check out this fourth book in the series. What if Katniss didn't kill Coin? What if things turned out differently for Gale? Follow the trio as Katniss tries to figure out her heart and save the world. Plenty of Peeta and Gale to please folks on either team.
1. Prologue

He's lying on his side, staring at me intently. His eyes dark and eager, but I know he's waiting for me to make the next move. I tentatively touch his chest. His eyes dart down to the movement, and I feel his heart begin racing, matching mine beat for beat.

Then all thought leaves me. My body moves instinctively. I hook my hands in his hair and pull his lips to mine. The effect is immediate—all the restraint I've had dissolves, leaving me wanting. His reaction makes it clear he feels the same. Shifting his weight, he poises himself above me, balancing on his elbows. The blood coursing through my veins spreads like wildfire, bringing a welcomed warmth to my face, my chest, and deep, deep in my core. I kiss him with more urgency, trying to quench the insatiable need that is building inside of me.

My fingers move on their own. Exploring every part of his body. Every part that has teased and tempted me. They move down his neck, over the well-defined contours of his chest and abdomen, and then around his waist to the rippling muscles of his back. He groans low in his throat and drops his body on top of mine. I gasp as the weight and heat of him sends a shiver down by spine and brings me back to the reality of the situation.

This is it. I know if I let this go any further, he'll assume I've made up my mind. That I've decided to give myself to him in every way I know he wants me. Forever. I gulp at the enormity of this moment. Do I want to do this? Can I do this? I fight back tears as I think of the other man who holds a place in my heart. Will this ever get easier or will my heart continue to be divided for the rest of my life?


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: This is intended as a fourth book in the series. It starts at the point in Mockinjay when Katniss is standing before Snow and Coin. My goal is to make this the length of a YA book, if there's enough interest. So be sure to leave a review and let me know if you want more! Also, this is only my second fanfiction, so I'd love to hear your constructive feedback. Thanks!**

* * *

I pull the taut string back, my eyes locked on his, my muscles twitching as I anticipate what's about to happen. He smiles, showing me those pointy little teeth I despise. The smell of roses is sickening, even though he's 50 yards away. He moves his lips. I'm too far away to hear him, but I can tell exactly what he's saying.

"I'm not your enemy anymore, Katniss."

My eyes narrow. I open my fingers, the string slides past them, releasing the arrow and sending it through the open space between us. It pierces his heart, and the crowd is immediately rewarded with Snow's body collapsing to the ground.

* * *

One week later, I'm back in District 12 and completely lost. My whole life has been about protecting Prim and more recently, killing Snow. But now there's nothing I can do for Prim and killing Snow failed to provide the satisfaction I had anticipated.

I am numb—physically and emotionally. My heavy arms and legs hang limp over the edges of the rocking chair. My mind is foggy like I'm watching the world through a wall of water. Out the window, I can see people moving around in town, but their movements are blurry, and I don't understand their purpose.

Time passes, but it doesn't register with me. I could have been sitting here for days or maybe weeks. Occasionally, I drift off to sleep, but it never lasts very long. Sleep is the one place where my numbness is overcome by fear, anguish, despair. It's the one place where I can't control my thoughts and they all come rushing back in excruciating detail. My subconscious is trying to process everything I've gone through, but I suppress it when awake—pushing it to the deepest recesses of my mind.

Whenever I wake up screaming and drenched in sweat, I grip the arms of the chair forcefully and make myself focus on some mundane detail—a crack in the wall, a speck of dirt on the window, a dark grain in the wood floor. I stare at it without blinking until my eyes water and the edges of my vision become fuzzy. Gradually, my heart rate slows, my breathing becomes shallower, and I return to my state of numbness. It's the only way I've been able escape the memories that haunt me in my sleep.

One evening, the still of my house is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Probably Haymitch. Funny how times change—now he has to check on me. I expect to hear his heavy footsteps moving down the hall, but it's completely silent. He must have changed his mind and left. Good—I just want to be left alone.

"Katniss," a deep voice says startling me. No wonder I didn't hear any footsteps.

I quickly turn to face him. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is matted to his head in irregular patches, and his shirt is wrinkled and untucked. He may actually look worse than me.

"I've got nothing to say to you, Gale." My voice cracks after days of no use.

"I know. I just wanted to drop off some food for you. Make sure you're eating. That you're okay," he says quietly.

"I'm fine," I reply curtly and turn back to the window.

I hear a soft thud as he drops the game bag on the floor and then nothing until the door creaks open again and quietly shuts. I don't touch the food.

Over the next couple days, this becomes a routine. Each day, he stops by, drops off more food that I won't eat, removes the old food, and then leaves without us exchanging a word. After four days, he disrupts the routine.

"Okay, Katniss. This has gone on long enough. What's your plan? Starve yourself to death?" He waits for an answer, but I say nothing.

"I'm sure you could come up with something quicker and less painful if you really want to end your life."

I continue staring out the window.

"Fine, you don't care about yourself. I get it. Your life is over. But, you're wasting perfectly decent food here. Things are still not good in the district. There are plenty of people out there who need food, but I keep bringing it to you."

"Well stop, then," I yell at him angrily. I'm surprised by the emotion in my voice. Leave it to Gale to drag me out of my coveted numbness.

"Fine! But if I don't do it, someone else will. You really want Haymitch or Sae seeing you like this?" he shouts back. With that, he leaves, taking the bag of fresh game with him.

The anger lasts even after he's gone. And with that anger comes my thoughts. The brick wall I had built around my memories begins to crumble. While I'm awake, I've been successfully keeping my mind empty. Blank. It was nice and easy. No sadness. No thoughts of Prim. Or Finnick. Or Cinna. Or anyone else who died because of me. No thoughts of the deranged Peeta and how responsible I feel for that.

But Gale managed to topple that wall with just a few choice words. I'm angry with him for bringing me out of the nothingness. I feel the tears welling up and threatening to spill onto my cheeks. I know I'm on the verge of a complete breakdown.

I have a choice to make. Either I give into my depression and allow it to swallow me whole or I force myself to live again. If I give in, there may be no turning back. I could end up like Haymitch or worse. Like my mother after my father died. That thought scares me more than anything. I don't want to be helpless with people taking pity on me.

I sigh loudly. Gale's right—I need a plan. What am I going to do with my life? That thought is so overwhelming it makes my head spin, so I focus on the short-term. Gale has a point—I do need to eat.

I walk over to the game bag with the day-old meat, open it, and immediately know the food is past its prime given the smell emanating from the small opening. Instead, I go to the pantry and find dusty jars of pickled vegetables. I open a jar of beets and take a tentative bite. It's been a while since I've had anything to eat and I'm not sure how my stomach will react, but it tastes surprisingly delicious. I realize that I'm ravenous. I eat the entire jar and then open another—this one containing pickled katniss. After two more jars, I finally feel satiated.

When I walk back to the dining room, the stench from the game bag immediately hits me. It seems to be worse than just minutes before. Combine that with my overly full stomach and I feel incredibly nauseated. Gagging, I lift the bag and carry it to the front porch and then around to the back of the house. I walk to the farthest edge of the property and dump the contents onto the ground. The smell and sight of decaying flesh takes its toll on me, and I start to retch. All the pickled contents of my meal end up on the ground next to the rotting squirrels and rabbits. Just perfect. If there was any doubt of what a complete mess I am, it's now been cleared up.

I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and then quickly head back to the house. When I reach the back corner, I see Gale sitting on the ground staring at me, his eyes bloodshot again. In my haste to dispose of the game, I must have missed him on the way out.

"If you planned on eating, you could've asked me to leave the fresh game. I thought you knew better than to eat the rotten meat," he says quietly.

"I didn't eat the rotten meat."

"Well, something came up back there." He grins timidly, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Pickled beets and katniss," I reply without emotion.

"Hmm… sounds delicious."

"What are you still doing here?" I ask accusingly.

"I was just leaving," he says, standing up and walking off without another word.

I return to my rocking chair and collapse in exhaustion. The last ten minutes were the most activity I've had since coming back to the district. I feel my thoughts slipping back to that dangerous place and force myself to think about something else, anything else. At some point, I'm going to have to leave this chair and this house and do something. I try to focus on what that something could be. But, unfortunately, nothing I come up with seems any better than just sitting here. I don't know how I'm ever going to find the motivation to live again.

In the early hours of morning, I fall into a fitful sleep. I'm often plagued by visions of Prim dying horrible deaths in the most gruesome ways. Sometimes she's devoured by rabid wolf mutts. Other times, her neck is broken in one swift move by Peeta's powerful hands.

But, tonight, she's standing next to Gale, looking beautiful as ever. The back of her shirt is untucked and I smile thinking about my little duck. Then, Gale hands her an elegantly gift-wrapped package. She's giddy as she accepts it and quickly unties the ribbon. It falls to the floor in slow motion, as silence wraps around us. I hold my breath. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I feel and hear a blast—it starts deep in my chest, compressing my lungs, and then rapidly spreads to my ears. I know what's about t happen. I scream Prim's name, beg her to throw the package down, but she doesn't hear me. And then it happens. The entire package explodes into a ball of fire, immediately engulfing her in flames. She reaches out for me. I can't hear anything but the ringing in my ears. "Katniss!" she mouths. "Help me!" I try to move to her, but my feet are firmly planted to the ground. I look down and they're ensnared by roses—tendrils wrapping around my ankles, slowly spiraling up my legs toward my knees. I try to rip them away but the thorns cause deep gashes in my hands. Blood drips to the ground as the roses continue to climb.

I wake up screaming, clawing at my legs. Red marks trail down my calves where my nails must have made contact. This dream is the most disturbing I've ever had. I know that's because it's the only one that is somewhat real. Gale killed Prim. And I wasn't able to save her. I will have to live with that forever.

I'm still shivering from the nightmare when I hear the door open. A few moments later, Gale walks into the dining room carrying a small duffel bag. Now he has dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and his hair has become even more unruly.

The memories of the nightmare come rushing back. I narrow my eyes and angrily spit out, "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too."

"Well?"

"Someone has been released from the Capitol and I thought you should know."

I try to hide my intrigue. "Who?"

"Peeta," he says with contempt.

My heart stops. "Peeta?" I whisper.

"Yep, he's due back today."

"Oh," is all I say.

"So… it looks like we'll be roomies for a while," he declares and tosses his bag onto the table.

My mouth drops open in astonishment. "What?"

"Peeta has tried to kill you on multiple occasions. You don't think I'm going to let him move in next to you, do you?"

"In case you haven't heard—I'm pretty good at taking care of myself. Won the Hunger Games and all," I say sarcastically.

"Yes, but in order to take care of yourself, you'd have to actually move out of that chair. And, from what I've seen, that's not likely to happen unless you're about to toss your cookies."

My blood pressure rises. I ball up my fists.

"Come on Katniss. It will be fun," he says in a mocking tone. "Maybe we can get to the bottom of our issues. I can say hateful things about how you played games with me and Peeta and you can blame me for Prim's death. It's bound to be a good time."

Reflexively, my hand reaches for my bow leaning against the wall. Without thinking, I draw an arrow back, and then send it flying through the air.


	3. Chapter 2

The arrow embeds itself in the wall two inches from Gale's left ear. He didn't even flinch. Of course he didn't, he knows I'd never intentionally hurt him. That makes my blood run even hotter. I'm furious with him, will probably never forgive him, but there's not even anything I can do about it.

"Maybe you do still have the survival instinct after all," he utters indifferently. He then turns and walks to the living room. Straining my neck to the side, I can just barely see him lower himself into one of my mother's worn armchairs and then causally place his feet on an old ottoman. He grabs a book off the adjacent bookshelf and starts reading. We only have a few books and most of them are Prim's schoolbooks from before everything fell apart. I'm sure he's really going to enjoy reading about cell division or the history of the coalmines.

I contemplate my options. I could try to force him out, but he's much stronger than me, so that's not likely to work. I could leave, but I have nowhere to go and no one to stay with other than Haymitch. With the filth over there and his drunken outbursts, that would be an even worse option than this. I could make Gale miserable until he chooses to leave on his own. That's rather promising. And honestly, probably the only viable option. As an added bonus, making him miserable may also help me release some of the anger I have towards him. He deserves to be in a living hell, just like me.

I stand and slowly walk to the living room until I'm directly in front of him.

"I don't want you here Gale."

"No kidding? I think the arrow aimed at my head was a pretty clear indication of that," he replies without looking away from the book. It's Prim's math book—must be a riveting chapter on algebra.

"Leave."

"Nope."

"You can't stay here."

"Why's that?" He still hasn't glanced up from the book—variables must have really piqued his interest.

"I can't stand to look at you." That ought to cut rather deep.

"Then don't."

The muscles of my jaw contract. I grind my teeth and kick the ottoman out from under his feet. His legs fall clumsily to the ground with a loud thump.

My voice is becoming louder and higher pitched now. "Get out of my house, Gale! I will never forgive you for what you did. Do you understand that? Things will never be the way they used to be. You and I are over!"

"To be over, we would've had to have something," he mutters under his breath, but makes no move to leave.

I need to be more forceful—say something that will really hit him hard.

"Exactly. We never were anything, we're never going to be anything. We're not even friends anymore. You need to just forget about me! Then we can each move on with our own lives!"

He finally looks up and our eyes meet. "That's what you want then? For us to never speak again?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, have I not made that perfectly clear?" I ask sardonically.

He finally stands and walks to the front door. Before going outside, he turns to me and says, "That's not what I want. It'd be nice if my feelings could be considered for once."

His mouth is tight, his eyes sad. Score one for Katniss—I successfully made Gale miserable in order to get him to leave. It's what I wanted, so why do I feel so terrible?

I spend the rest of the day trying to keep my mind occupied with thoughts of things other than the people I've lost or Gale's eyes when he left. I find that cleaning can be therapeutic. I scrub the floors and walls, focusing on nothing but removing every microscopic piece of dirt that coats the surfaces of my house. By early evening my knuckles are raw, and the house is the cleanest it's ever been.

I'm feeling tired, so I move to my rocking chair and look out at the district, really for the first time. I let myself focus on individual details. The green has been plowed and there are a handful of teenagers out there planting seeds and joking around with each other. I see a collection of makeshift tents where the Hob used to be. A group of guys walk in that direction looking tired. And in the town area, shop owners walk around the rubble that used to be their shops. I watch a middle-aged woman give a neighbor a loaf of bread in exchange for three bars of soap. They talk for a few minutes and then hug each other before parting.

How can all those people be moving forward with their lives? So many of them lost everything, too. It doesn't make sense to me. I can't imagine interacting with someone else, giving them a glimpse into the torment that keeps me teetering on the edge of sanity.

By twilight, only a handful of people remain outside and they all appear to be heading to the tent area. I'm tired, but not at all interested in sleeping since I'm sure the nightmares will come with the same ferocity as usual. I decide to walk around the district instead. I'm curious as to the level of damage we sustained, and it will be good to explore at a time when I have less of a risk of running into anyone.

The walk into town isn't long, but I'm winded by the time I get there, a clear sign of how completely out of shape I've become. I sit down on the fragmented remains of the Justice Building steps to catch my breath. I glance over towards the Seam, looking for our old house, but of course it's not there. In fact, there's nothing in the Seam, but a thick coat of gray ash. No buildings, no trees, no grass. Nothing. I follow the path I took every day to the woods. The fence is tattered with more holes than just the one Gale and I used to travel through. In some places, it's completely broken apart, the two halves swaying in the breeze like fronds of the exotic looking trees from the Quarter Quell arena.

My feet follow what used to be the road back into town. It's now littered with piles of rubble. I stop at the spot where the bakery used to be. My chest tightens, my throat constricts. I force myself to look away and try to remember what was in all the other stores, so that my mind won't visualize the boy with the bread. But, when I'm three stores down from the bakery, my eyes involuntarily move back there.

There's nothing left that indicates it was a bakery. The rubble there looks exactly the same as that from the stores on either side. I look to the darkening sky, but a movement at the edge of my vision stops me. There's someone kneeling down at the edge of a pile of debris pulling pieces out, analyzing them, and then tossing them aside. I'd recognize that profile anywhere. It's Peeta.

I'm surprised by the intense emotions that wash over me in waves. First fear, then anguish, followed by guilt. As I continue to watch him, my mind eventually settles on apprehension.

I don't want him to see me, so I climb the step next to me and slide along it until I'm deeper in the shadows of a large pile of stones and cement that was once the Justice Building. He continues sorting through the remains until there's no daylight left. I can barely make out his silhouette as he starts walking out of town, probably to his house. I slink back into the shadows even more.

A few minutes later, he changes direction and starts walking straight towards me. I think about running away, but he'll see me for sure. Instead I sit perfectly still, hoping I'll blend in with the background. He's at the bottom of the stairs now, just three below me and about four feet to the right. He puts one foot up on the next step and then stops. His head turns toward me. I hold my breath. I'm not sure if he sees me or not.

"Katniss," he says quietly.

So much for hiding. "Peeta," I reply simply.

"May I sit down?"

Always the gentleman. "If you want."

"Real or not real—my family is all dead."

I gulp. "Real," I whisper.

"You killed them."

"Not real."

"I didn't think so."

I see the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. He continues, "Were you watching me?"

"Yes." There doesn't seem to be any reason to lie to him now.

"Why?"

"I miss you," I say, surprising myself with my answer. Do I really miss Peeta? Or do I feel guilty about what Snow did to him?

He seems equally surprised. "What do you miss?"

I gulp. What do I tell him? I think back to the old Peeta and the relationship we had. I know immediately the one part of that life I would take again right now.

"I miss how you made me feel safe… back before Snow got his hands on you. You were the only one who could keep my nightmares away."

"Are you still having nightmares?"

"Worse than ever."

"Me, too. Unfortunately, we probably each play a major role in the other's nightmares now."

I nod. We sit in silence for a few moments and then he slides closer to me. Our legs are just a few inches from each other, causing my body to tense slightly. The memories of him trying to kill me in District 13 flash through my mind.

"I'm sorry about Prim. I know that she meant everything to you. Things have to be incredibly tough for you right now."

I nod again because I don't trust myself to speak.

"Real or not real—I used to hold your hand to make you feel better?"

I bite my lip. It's real, but what kind of slippery slope will I be headed down if I tell him that?

He senses my hesitation and says, "You don't have to answer that." He leans back on his elbows and looks up at the stars.

"It's hard being back here. I thought Snow had screwed up my mind so much that it wouldn't be difficult. But, all of the memories of my family are intact. I can't believe I'll never see them again," his voice cracks slightly. After a moment, he continues in a steady voice, "My last memory of them is waving from the train as we pulled away for the Quarter Quell. I saw the deep despair in my father's eyes. He knew we'd never be together again."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Real," I whisper and reach for his hand. "We held hands to comfort each other."

After everything we've been through, I still can't stand to see him hurt. Of course, now there's the risk that my touch will send him into a murderous fit.

At first, his hand is rigid, but slowly he relaxes one finger at a time.

"How are you feeling?" I ask him tentatively.

"If what you mean is 'are you going to kill me,' the answer is no, at least not right now. I think I'm gaining more control. More of an ability to analyze the situation rather than react impulsively."

"Does that mean you still have thoughts of killing me?"

He sighs. "I'm not sure those will ever go away completely."

We sit quietly, holding hands for a long while. It feels nice, secure, very much like it used to feel with him. The only difference is he's not professing his love to me, which always made me uncomfortable anyways. Of course, I have to keep in mind that he's been programmed to hate me… to kill me. Who knows how well or for how long he can fight that impulse.

Eventually, he releases my hand and stands up. "I should probably head home now."

"Okay," I reply.

"Can I walk you home?"

I nod.

After a few moments of walking in silence, he asks, "You're responsible for me losing my leg—real or not real?"

I pause, not sure how to answer his question. I roll around possible answers in my head, but finally decide on, "What's your memory?"

"We were on top of the cornucopia and you sliced open my leg, trying to get me to fall off."

"Not real," I say definitively. "A mutt tore a huge gash in your leg and I was worried you were going to bleed to death, so I put a tourniquet on it. Technically, I'm partially responsible for your leg, but it was to save your life."

"Hmm… how many times did you save my life?"

I shrug. "I have no idea. We didn't really keep track. You saved me, I saved you… it was just what we did for each other."

"But why? You never loved me, right?"

I turn my head and look at his profile in the moonlight. I really have missed him. This is the closest to the real Peeta I've seen in months. Suddenly, I have the urge to curl up beside him like we used to do on the train. But what kind of message would that send? And why do I want that? Because I want a decent night of sleep or because I want to feel his body next to mine? Plus, his feelings for me are not even close to what they used to be, so it's selfish of me to think we could fall into our old routine after everything that's happened. I sigh. How can I explain our relationship to him when I can't even begin to understand it myself?

"It was complicated," I say evasively.

"Why do I feel like I'm never going to fully understand what was going through your mind?" he asks with smile.

Neither of us says anything the rest of the way to the Victor's Village. When we're a few feet away from my house, I debate whether or not I should invite him in. It's been nice seeing him and I'm not ready to let him go, but I'm sure our time together is difficult for him. When my feet hit the first step of my porch, though, I realize the answer has already been made, and it wasn't my decision.


	4. Chapter 3

"Peeta, I see you've made it back to the district." Gale is sitting on the porch glaring at the two of us.

"Oh. Hi, Gale. It's nice to see you," he replies.

"What are you doing here?" I ask tersely.

"I got worried when I came home and you weren't here."

"First of all, this isn't 'home' for you. And secondly, stop checking on me. You're really…" My diatribe is interrupted by Peeta clearing his throat.

"It was nice catching up with you, Katniss. I'll be going now."

"Oh, yes, it was. I'll see you later, Peeta," I say extra sweetly to annoy Gale.

Gale and I watch him walk to his house and let himself inside. Once I'm sure we're alone, I continue my rant.

"We've been through this. You agreed you weren't going to bother me anymore!"

His anger rivals mine now. "So, this is it? You'll spend time with someone who has legitimately tried to kill you, but you can't even stand to be in the same room as me after everything I've done for you and your family?"

Everything he's done. Like killing my sister. I glare at him, and then stalk to the door, slamming it behind me after I enter.

Following that encounter, I rarely see Gale. He doesn't bother to show up at my house anymore and I only occasionally see him when I head into town. I've started hunting again, and a few times we've run into each other in the woods, but we quickly head in opposite directions without exchanging a word.

The highlight of my days is after the sun goes down. Peeta and I meet on the Justice Building steps every night. It wasn't planned. We both just wander through town at night and kept running into each other.

Each night, I feel like he's turning more and more into the old Peeta. He seems a lot more relaxed around me and his sense of humor has even returned. It's really nice to have someone to talk to, especially someone who shares my horrid experiences. Sometimes we talk about what's happened; sometimes we just make small talk. Either way, I find the sound of his voice soothing, and my time with him is what gets me through each and every day.

One night, after sitting down, he reaches for my hand. I freeze because he hasn't done that before—it's always been me reaching for his. He wraps his strong fingers around mine and pulls my hand to his lap. I relax and smile at him.

"Do you think we'll ever forgive ourselves for everything that's happened?" he asks.

"No."

"Do you feel responsible for Prim's death?"

"Yes. Well… I blame myself and Gale."

"Gale?"

"The bomb that killed her was his idea."

"He had no way of knowing it would be used on the rebels, though."

I say nothing, so he adds, "Plus, he would've never expected Prim to be there. She was way too young to be out there. She should've never been there. Someone else is responsible for that."

I think about what Peeta said. It's true. Why was a 13-year old on the medic team? She should've been safely tucked away in District 13 with the other children. Why did someone allow her, a child, to be on the front lines?

I scoot my body next to Peeta's and gently lean my head on his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" I ask, since I'm not sure if being this close will trigger any sort of attack.

"Hmm… mmm," he mumbles quietly, twisting the end of my braid in his free hand.

"We were always just pieces in their games, weren't we?"

"Yep."

"Do you feel responsible for the death of your family?"

"Yes. Although not directly. I feel like us winning the Games put a chain reaction into place that led to it. Sometimes, when I'm feeling a little optimistic, though, I think that things would've happened anyway, even if we hadn't won the games. If that's true, then it's not our fault."

"That's a nice thought," I say quietly.

"And, we should remember the positive changes that have come with all of this. No more Hunger Games, so we've saved the lives of a lot of children."

"You always were the optimistic one," I say enjoying his closeness and the feel of his hand against mine.

The next day, I wake up early feeling better than I have in a long while. Peeta is bringing out the best in me, much like he always has. I quickly change and head out to the woods. Rather than hunting right away, I decide to relax on the rock outcropping for a bit. But when I get there, the spot is already occupied. By Gale. I start to turn, but notice his blotchy red face and bloodshot eyes. He looks terrible. And very, very sad. I pause, unsure what to do.

"Feeling torn, Catnip?" His voice is hoarse.

I take a step closer. "Are you okay, Gale?"

"Of course. Why? Don't I look okay?" he asks facetiously.

"What's wrong?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

I can't leave him like this. So, I climb up on the rock and sit next to him.

"So, you're talking to me now?"

"No… Maybe. I'm not sure."

He laughs. "You've always had a problem being decisive."

"You've been crying."

"Nah. I'm a big tough guy, I don't cry."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did something happen to your family?"

"You could say that," he says with a sneer.

My heart sinks. "Your mom? One of your brothers?"

He shakes his head. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Gale, they're like family to me. I have to know."

He continues to sit silently. "Gale, please, tell me," I plead.

"Sister," he whispers.

I try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Wh-what happened?" I ask.

"I killed her," he says mater-of-factly.

I know the shock is apparent on my face. "You're not making any sense. They're still in District 13."

His eyes glaze over. I've seen that look many times with Peeta—Gale is somewhere else right now, reliving some terrible event that will forever haunt him.

"Tell me about it," I urge.

"It happened in the Capitol."

"The Capitol? Your family's never been to the capitol, Gale."

"She was just trying to help. All she wanted to do was save lives."

He's not making any sense. His sister is young—there's no way she can save lives.

"I saw the parachutes. I knew what they were immediately. I tried to reach her, but I was too far away."

Suddenly it all makes sense. He's not talking about Posy, he's talking about Prim. He thought of her as a sister. Of course he did. He's hurting just as much as I am.

"Why did I ever mention the idea of the delayed bomb? If I would've just kept my mouth shut, everything would be okay right now."

Tears well up in my eyes. I've had that very thought practically every day since it happened.

"I have to live with this the rest of my life. She was so sweet, so perfect. And I took all that away from her."

Tears spill onto my cheeks. I wipe them away with the back of my hand. My throat constricts, and I'm on the verge of immense sobbing.

"I don't blame you for hating me, Katniss. I hate myself. There's nothing I can ever do to make this right."

And then the sobbing starts. He reaches over and pulls my body to his. I climb into his lap like a little girl. He wraps his around me protectively, gently rocking me side to side. I bury my face into his shirt and let my tears soak through, as grief shakes my body. I feel his tears landing on the back of my head, my neck.

I'm not sure how long we sit like that, both of us letting our feelings run raw. Peeta and I have talked about what's happened, but I've always managed to keep my emotions in check. This is the first time I've allowed myself to cry. I feel exposed and vulnerable, but Gale matches me sob for sob, which makes it seem acceptable. Two best friends thoroughly messed up by the events that they've been forced into.

Eventually, the uncontrollable sobbing turns into occasionally whimpers, as our tears dry up. I sense Gale's sudden discomfort.

"I'm sorry I totally broke down," he says embarrassed.

"Yeah, me too. That really wasn't like either of us, was it?" I smile up at him sadly.

"No." After a pause, he adds, "Given everything we've gone through, it was bound to happen though."

He tightens his grip around me, making me realize I'm still in his lap. Clumsily, I roll to my side and quickly clamber away.

He frowns. "Please don't hate me, Katniss."

I sigh. The exhaustion from my crying has taken its toll. I don't know what to think. I still blame him. But will I ever be able to move past that? I really don't know. There's a huge hole in my heart and whenever that wound's exposed, I'll think of him.

"I'm afraid being around you will be too painful," I say softly.

He nods. "Let's just take it slowly. Maybe we can help each other get through this."

I tense. I certainly don't want to be responsible for helping Gale. I can't even take care of myself! I've been turning to Peeta, but I know I can't tell Gale that. Does he not have anyone else who can help him? I rack my brain for someone. Thom? No, he's not going to show this vulnerable side of himself to one of his friends. His mother? No, she's still back in District 13.

I hate to see him hurting, but am I willing to put up with the pain it brings me to help him? I sigh and say, "We'll see…"

That night, Peeta and I meet up on the steps as usual, despite the threat of an impending thunderstorm.

"What'd you do today?" he asks me casually, moving his body close to me so our shoulders are touching. With the cool storm wind blowing in, the warmth of his body feels nice. I don't know where our relationship is going, or even where I want it to go, but I'm enjoying having Peeta back in my life. Like always, his touch brings a sense of comfort to me when I need it most.

"I ran into Gale in the woods."

"Oh."

He says just one word, but that one word speaks volumes. I know he's wondering what happened, what's going on between us.

"He feels really guilty about Prim."

"It was clear how much he cared about her. I'm sure he's having a really tough time of it right now, too." He laces his finger through mine and gently rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. "That guilt is something you'll both hold on to for the rest of your lives. As an outsider, I know it wasn't your fault or Gale's fault. But, you'll never be able to convince yourself that there wasn't something you could have done differently." He sighs. "I feel that way about my family every time I think of them."

I nod.

"I guess we all just have to learn how to live with our guilt," he states sadly. I know he's right, but I wonder how we're supposed to do that.

I glance up at the quickly approaching thunderclouds. "The storm's coming quickly—perhaps we should go."

"That's probably a good idea," he replies, but I can see the disappointment on his face. I know what he's feeling. We only have a few hours together every evening, and I hate to lose today's time due to a storm.

"Would you like to come to my house?" I blurt out without thinking.

He inhales sharply and stares at me unblinking. "I'm not sure," he says. "I feel like you're safer outside. No immediate weapons within my reach, you know."

"Peeta, you haven't tried to hurt me once since you've been here. Have you even had thoughts of doing so?"

"Not when I'm with you," he mumbles, his eyes taking on a distant look.

I grab his hand and pull him off the stairs and towards my house, but he balks. I have not felt threatened by him at all, and I want him to understand that. I want him to trust himself.

"You'll be fine," I say pulling him along. He continues to resist, although less forcefully. When we get to the edge of the Seam, the rain starts. Large, cold, wet drops pummel us from above, soaking our hair and clothes within seconds. This brings Peeta out of his trance—he starts running, pulling me with him now. But neither of us is in very good shape and within two blocks, we stop, gasping for air. I place my hands on my knees and bend over trying to slow my breathing. He starts laughing.

I tilt my head up and look at him under rain laden lashes.

"What a sorry pair we are. Two blocks and we're out of breath!" he says.

I strand up straight and start laughing with him. "Perhaps we should spend our evenings working out, rather than talking," I suggest.

"I guess that's one approach." He moves closer. His hair lays slick against his forehead, fat drops of water falling from his blond bangs to the ground. His wet shirt clings to him closely, showing his still muscular chest and arms. He reaches for me. I quickly cover the small distance between us and melt into his embrace.

"I guess there's no reason to hurry now," he murmurs into my ear, allowing his lips to linger. His eyes are dark, smoldering.

"I guess not," I whisper back.

After a few minutes of staring silently into each other eyes, he says, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I reply thickly.

"Did any of our kisses ever mean anything to you?"

"Yes."

He opens his mouth, but stops himself. The rain continues to pelts us, but we're lost in each other right now.

"What is it?" I prod.

Slowly, he says, "I would very much like to kiss you right now."

The formality of his request takes me off guard. But once it sinks in, my heart begins racing and I feel that nervous sinking-of-my-stomach feeling that I experienced on the beach. Do I really want to go there with Peeta? Yes. But for what reason? I start running through all the reasons I've had in the past—guilt, to convince Snow of our undying love, to make Peeta happy, to get little parachutes from Haymitch—but none of those fit this situation. I simply want to kiss him to kiss him. I really do miss him and the closeness we had.

I look up at him. "We didn't usually ask for permission," I reply with a nervous smile.

He leans down cautiously and lightly brushes his lips against mine.

"Any murderous thoughts?" I ask.

"Quite the opposite, actually." His lips push against mine more firmly. The heat from his mouth in stark contrast to the cool raindrops that continue to shower us. He moves his hands to my face and gently pushes a strand of wet hair out of my eyes before tracing a line from my temple, to below my ear, and finally to the back of my neck. His touch sends shivers through my body.

"Are you cold?" he asks pulling away slightly.

Not even close. The blood coursing through my veins is on fire. "Quite the opposite, actually," I reply thickly, mirroring his words. I rest my hands on his broad chest and enjoy the moment.

But that moment is short-lived as the darkness around us suddenly vanishes with a flash of lightening. It's followed immediately by a crash of thunder that startles me, causing me to jump away from Peeta's hold.

"Sorry, that scared me," I say with a chuckle. I extend my hand to Peeta, but stop before reaching him. Everything about him has changed. His eyes are clouded and distant, his face contorted in rage.

"Peeta, you're fine." I say calmly, backing away from him. "That was just some lightening and thunder. You're name is Peeta Mellark, you're back in District 12, and we're friends," I try something like my old mantra to attempt and bring him back to this place.

But his eyes don't change. When his mouth curls into a snarl, I know there's no hope. I need to flee quickly before he tries to kill me. I begin running faster than I thought possible towards the old Hob area, where people are currently living in tents. It's only three blocks—surely I can make it that far, and then someone can help me.

After a half block, I'm tempted to look back to see what my lead is, but the couple of seconds I lose doing that may eliminate any advantage I have. Instead, I pump my legs harder, faster, pulling deep breaths into my lungs. It's only two blocks now.

My breathing becomes ragged as my legs and lungs burn. Each intake of breath is like fire spreading down my windpipe and through every inch of my lungs. The pain is intense, and I slow slightly. I risk a look behind me now and am shocked to find Peeta not even 25 feet from me. And he has that same look on his face; that's all the motivation I need to kick up my adrenaline a notch. Instinct takes over—my legs move on their own, pain no longer registering. My strides grow faster and longer as I try to put more distance between us. It's only one and half blocks now.

Then the unimaginable happens. Focusing on the lights in the tent area, I don't even see the pile of rubble in the middle of the street. I hit it at full speed, twisting my ankle and slicing up my shins as I fall headfirst into a heap. I quickly roll over to see Peeta approaching. He's only a few feet away now. He slows and a sick, demented smile spreads over his face.

I push myself up to sitting a position and try to stand, but it's no use—my ankle won't support my weight. I look to the tents—too far way for anyone to see me. And, with the rain, there's no chance of anyone hearing my screams. So, this is the way it's going to end for me.

"Peeta. Don't do this. You don't want to hurt me. We're friends," I try to reason with him.

He bends down to my level and tugs on my braid. The hatred in his eyes is unbearable.

He grabs my neck, his thick hands easily encircling it. Slowly, he tightens his grip. I struggle, pushing him with my arms, but he doesn't budge. I try to kick him, but I'm not able to balance on one leg with my injured ankle. He's now completing occluding my windpipe—I can no longer breathe. I become frantic. My hands reach for his. I dig my nails into his fingers, trying to pry them away, but nothing happens. After a few moments, my vision darkens, my energy completely fades away and I stop resisting. I sense myself falling and wonder where I'll land. Maybe in a nice meadow with Prim by my side. Or a peaceful lake with my dad. I actually smile—this won't be bad at all.

And then I feel pressure against my head. No not pressure, more like pounding. Intense pounding that starts at my temple and radiates to the back of my eyes.

"Katniss, wake up!" an urgent voice yells.

I groan.

"Open your eyes."

The pounding intensifies and now it's combined with hundreds of sharp, stinging stabs over my entire body, like microscopic needles piercing my skin.

"Katniss. Open your eyes," the voice says more firmly.

"The meadow…" I want to go to the meadow or the lake, not this place with all the pain. Luckily, that's exactly where I go.


	5. Chapter 4

"Sing to me," Prim pleads, dancing around me in circles. It's summertime in the meadow. The wildflowers are in full bloom, blanketing the willowy grass with yellows, blues, and purples, while the sun shines brightly overhead.

"Of course. What do you want to hear?"

"The Hanging Tree," she answers immediately.

"_Are you, are you_

_Coming to the tree_

_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._

_Strange things did happen here_

_No stranger would it be_

_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

By the end, Prim is holding my hand, singing with me. It's still a happy song for her since she hasn't yet figured out the meaning. She grabs my other hand and whirls us around in circles until we're both laughing and dizzy.

"Stop, stop… I have to sit down," I say breathlessly, the world spinning around me. I fall to the ground, pulling her next to me.

I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face and Prim's giddy laughter.

After a few moments, she says, "Thanks for visiting me, Katniss."

"Of course, little duck. I've missed you like crazy."

"I've missed you, too, but it's time for you to open your eyes."

"No, not yet," I mumble shaking my head. "It's so peaceful here."

"Katniss, please, do it for me," she pleads.

I smile. She knows I'll do anything for her. "Okay," I say lazily, barely opening one eye. I expect to see the vivid colors of the meadow and Prim peacefully staring down at me, but instead, I'm thrown into a cold, dark world with frowning faces hovering mere inches above me.

I close my eyes hard. Surely this is a bad dream. I try to go back to the meadow, but my throat hurts—burns—intensely, like someone poured scalding oil down it. I swallow to ease the pain, but that only intensifies it.

I groan and reluctantly reopen my eyes, but the scene is the same. We're under a blue tarp and I hear the steady drumming of falling raindrops. Someone shines a light into my right eye, causing a sharp pain to resonate to the back of my head. I groan again and try to move away, but someone else holds me still.

"Let go," I utter weakly, igniting the flames in my throat again.

"Shh… Katniss. We're helping you. You're going to be okay. " I recognize the voice. It's a voice that has brought me lots of happiness, but also a good deal of pain. I roll my eyes up and see Gale's face. He's sitting behind me, probably the one holding me still.

"My head…" I say, reaching to touch my temple.

"I know. Peeta didn't let go of you when I tackled him. You ended up taking a pretty good fall."

Gale tackled Peeta? Why would he do that? He must be jealous of him. This is exactly like Gale and so not appropriate. I feel my blood pressure rise, which only makes the pounding in my ears more intense. I try to sit up so I can yell at him, but he easily pushes me to the ground.

"Yeah, you're welcome," he says brazenly.

I narrow my eyes. "You better have not hurt him."

He laughs derisively. "You'd rather I let him kill you?"

Kill me? The pounding increases and I'm having a hard time thinking straight. I try to work backwards. I remember sitting in the meadow with Prim, but that must have been a dream, since Prim is dead—unfortunately I remember that all too easily. Before that, I remember sitting on the stairs next to Peeta with his arm wrapped around me. We were talking, but I have no idea what it was about. Did something go wrong on the steps?

"Wh-what happened?" I ask.

"Peeta was strangling you. He completely flipped out and was trying to kill you. You don't remember that?"

Flashes of the evening start slowly coming back. The rain, running through the streets, our kiss. But, my recollection is interrupted by a flash of lightening and crack of thunder. I begin shaking as the flashback hits me like a ton of bricks. We were kissing in the middle of the road when lightening struck and Peeta's whole demeanor changed. He was focused and his intention was very clear.

Gale lifts me into a sitting position and wraps his arms around my shivering body. Someone places a blanket around us. My body slumps as realization hits. Peeta and I can't be friends. At any moment, he could try to kill me again.

"Don't worry. He'll have a hell of headache for the next few days, but he'll survive," Gale says softly.

The next couple of days are fuzzy. I'm in and out of consciousness, so my memories are only of a few minutes or hours at a time. But whenever I wake up, Gale is sitting in the chair next to my bed with a glass of water, a bowl of soup, or a warm blanket for me. I hate that he's taking care of me, but I'm in no shape to complain. Reluctantly, I accept whatever he offers me, but roll my eyes at the smug look on his face.

By the evening of the fifth day, my throat, head, and ankle feel significantly better. And, I'm spending more time awake than asleep. I finally venture out of my bedroom. Gale's like a little puppy, right at my heels the whole way.

"How about a little space. I'm not going to fall," I growl.

I feel him back off a little. Slowly, I make my way downstairs, taking each step cautiously so I don't prove myself wrong. Downstairs looks as I remember it except for the stack of mail on the kitchen table.

I sit down and begin sorting through it. More letters from my mother. She's been writing me since I've been back and I haven't bothered to contact her yet. I really need to do that. A letter from Johanna. That's a first. I smile imagining what kind of inappropriate things will be in there and decide to wait until I'm alone to read it. The seal on the next letter makes my heart stop, my mouth go immediately dry. I thought I'd never have to see it again. I stare at it, my hands frozen, my breath caught in my throat.

I'm vaguely aware of Gale walking towards me, but I still don't move until he pulls the envelope from my grip. Then I look up at him, and I know he can see the shock in my eyes.

"What do we have here?" he asks much too casually.

My lips move, but no sound comes out.

He slides his finger under the flap of the envelope and runs it along the entire width. The inside is lined with gold leaf embossed with an intricate fleur-de-lis pattern. Gale pulls out the letter. It's pale silver parchment paper with the same embossed pattern. His eyes move from line to line as he quickly scans the words. His jaw clenches, as he comprehends their meaning.

I finally find my voice. "Wh-what does the Capitol want?" I say quietly.

He looks me in the eyes. "No. This is not going to happen. I'm not going to allow it to happen," he says adamantly. There's fury in Gales eyes—a fury I haven't seen since the revolution.

My shock is turning to fear. "What?" I ask again.

He shakes his head in disgust. His hand tightens, crumpling the delicate paper. "Coin is requesting that you return to the Capitol."

That doesn't seem so bad. Odd, but not terrible. There must be more.

"Why?" I whisper.

He purses his lips and looks away from me. "To be a mentor." The very word sends shockwaves through my body. I quickly pass through a range of emotions—fear, anger, disgust, outrage—finally settling on disbelief.

"Another Hunger Games." It's not a question. There's no doubt in my mind that's her plan. I have never trusted Coin. She doesn't care about our country. She's no better than Snow.

"She says it's what the country needs right now. To heal," Gale says emotionlessly.

My disbelief is turning back to outrage. "Yeah, that's exactly what we need. To see children march off to certain death again." I stand, my voice rising. "Does she not realize we've all had more than a lifetime's worth of death and anguish this past year?"

"It's not the districts' children she's talking about."

I tilt my head, and shoot him a questioning look.

"Capitol children."

I laugh. A very deep, throaty laugh. "Yeah, that'll be entertaining! They'll all curl up into little balls and cry until a mutt or some other man-made disaster takes them out. They've got no survival skills whatsoever."

"Coin acknowledges they'll have to modify the games a bit. She thinks you can help with that."

I laugh again. "I'm not helping. And I'm not being a mentor."

"Damn right, you're not. You're never going through anything like that again. I won't let that happen."

I scowl at him. "I don't need you to protect me, Gale. I'm perfectly capable of telling Coin exactly what I think of her plan."

Gale walks to my side and puts his arm around my shoulders. "You've never needed me to protect you, Catnip." He kisses the top of my head. "But, regardless, I'm staying by your side."

I don't fight Gale's touch. Emotionally, I'm a wreck. And for the first time in weeks, it's due to something other than Prim's death. Apparently, when my mind is preoccupied with other terrors, having his body close to mine is actually comforting.

"Katniss."

"Hmm…"

"There's one other thing." I hold my breath, waiting to hear how it could get any worse.

"Peeta has also been invited."

"Why would she do that? She knows he's in no shape to mentor!"

"My guess is it's part of her plan for you. She knows he's one of your weak spots."

As much as I hate to admit I have any weak spots, I know Gale's right. I was ready to die for Peeta in the Quarter Quell. And even though he's not the same guy he used to be, I still feel the same devotion towards him. Even if he wants to kill me.

"I have to talk to him."

"I know. But let me come with you. I've seen what he can do, Katniss."

Unconsciously, I reach up and gently touch my neck where his hands so easily wrapped around it. I see his dead eyes and cruel smirk in my mind, and agree without hesitation. "Let's go."

At Peeta's house, I knock on the door loudly, but he doesn't appear. We ring the doorbell and dock harder. Again no Peeta, but we hear voices inside.

"Do you think he has company?" Gale asks me.

"No. He doesn't talk to anyone, but me… and Haymitch occasionally."

"That doesn't sound like Haymitch. Maybe it's the TV." Gale tries the doorknob. It surprises us both when the door swings open. But the surprise is short-lived and quickly replaced by horror as we take in the scene before us.


	6. Chapter 5

I'm staring at myself. Gale and I look past the darkened foyer and into the brightly lit living room where I'm standing with an arrow drawn over a hunched figure. I stand mesmerized, horrified by the scene, but Gale rushes towards it at full speed. One moment he's inches from my likeness and the next he's on the other side of the room where I can barely seem him. It's like there's a haze between us, but nothing in the scene has changed—I'm still pointing my arrow at the trembling figure.

"It's a hologram," Gale yells from across the room.

"_Please, don't kill me."_ It's Peeta.

"Peeta!" I yell running into the foyer.

"Katniss, no. This is a trap!" Gale crosses through the hologram again and holds me close to his side.

"Peeta needs our help!"

"No—that's not Peeta! That voice is coming from the hologram."

"_Only one of us can win, Peeta. You didn't really think I'd let it be you, did you?"_

Gale's right. The hologram comes complete with surround sound. We stare transfixed as the scene unfolds.

"_Katniss, you heard them. Two tributes from the same district can win." Suddenly the angle of the scene enlarges, giving a better view of the surroundings. We're on top of the cornucopia. Peeta looks up, pleading with me. _

"_They'll never let that happen." Peeta closes his eyes, expecting the worse. I let out a maniacal laugh, clearly enjoying his fear. I lower my bow and pull a large knife from my waistband. "Let's make this a little more entertaining, shall we?" _

"_Please, Katniss, no. I beg you—make it quick."_

_I laugh again and kick him squarely in the chest, forcing his back against the cornucopia. I kneel beside his head and then lightly run the blade of the knife across his cheek, over the length of his jaw, and then down his neck, along the pulsating vessel. I push deeper, causing the blade to indent his skin. He whimpers and a small drop of blood emerges. It drips down his neck, leaving a crimson trail along his pale skin. _

"We're leaving," Gale says suddenly, turning me away from the scene unfolding before us. "You don't need to see this."

"No." I stand firmly. "We have to stop this. Somebody's still messing with Peeta's mind."

I twist my way out of Gale's grip and run to the middle of the living room, scanning the walls, the ceiling, looking for anything that could be emitting the hologram. But my hopes are quickly dashed. The ceiling is pocked with holes. Someone else obviously had the same idea. I flip the light switch, but it does nothing, except make the hologram even more visible against the darkness.

I can now easily see myself digging the knife deeper into Peeta's skin, causing blood to pool beneath his neck. I look away trying to focus, but the crazed laughter continues. The sound is deafening, it penetrates deep into my core. I know it's not real, that I was never this evil or vicious to him—to anyone—but the line between reality and fiction seems to be getting fuzzier every minute. I cover my ears with my hands trying to get a moment of silence to think.

Gale's back at my side, pulling me with him.

"No!" I scream, still holding my hands over my ears. "I'm not leaving until I get rid of this!"

He picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and quickly exits the house.

"Damn you, Gale!" I yell with exasperation when he lowers me to the ground outside.

"Calm down, would you! I want to try shutting off the electricity. The hologram must be powered somehow. Hopefully, it's tied into the electrical system for the whole house."

"You..." I stop midsentence when I realize he's actually trying to help. "Fine." I finish, my anger with him still simmering. We walk to the back of the house and open the door of the small storage area where the breakers are. Gale quickly flips all the switches. The yellow light pouring from the downstairs windows disappears, but unfortunately, an artificial blue, flickering light remains, like that from a TV in a darkened room. A very demented and sadistic TV in this case.

"How could that be…" Gale murmurs to himself.

"A generator?" I suggest.

"Maybe, but where would it be? It would have to be outside or someplace with really good ventilation."

"Batteries?"

He nods. "I think that's more likely."

"So, the only way to stop the hologram is to find the device that's producing it."

"It looks like Peeta already tried that, though."

"Then we have no choice. We have to get Peeta out of there."

"First of all, we don't even know if he's in there. If he was smart, he left as soon as the hologram started. And secondly, I don't want you anywhere near him. After what happened last time you were together and seeing what he's been subjected to, nothing good could come of you two being together again."

"Yeah, well, lucky for me, I don't answer to you." I stride off purposely towards the front door, ignoring the loud sigh Gale lets out.

Immediately inside the door, I'm assaulted with a cacophony of agonizing cries, crazed laughs, and awful hissing sounds. Except, it's not hissing. It's the mutts from the sewer and they're saying my name… Kanisssssssss… Katnisssssssss. The scene in the living room has changed—now it's me and Peeta sitting side-by-side on a couch while Caesar Flickerman interviews us.

"_Love you?" My crazy laugh again. "I despise you, Peeta. You're just another enemy to me. Another enemy that I can eliminate with the flick of a wrist." _

I cover my ears and quickly make my way to the kitchen. Gale did have a point—I'm not excited about running into Peeta without something I can use for self-defense. I stop short when I enter the kitchen though. Yet another hologram, this one showing me in the Quarter Quell arena. Again, I'm spellbound as I take in the alternate reality someone has devised.

_Peeta's sleeping while I wrap a length of wire around his leg. I then attach the wire to an arrow and send it shooting through the force field. Peeta's eyes open as the electric current hits his body. He begins shaking as it burns through him leaving singe marks along all his major veins and arteries. Then, abruptly, he's still, blank eyes staring straight ahead._

I stand motionless. How long have these been going on? How long has Peeta been forced to watch me kill him in unimaginable ways? And why are these still going on if Snow's dead? Who still wants to torment him and why? Focusing on the last question, my rising anger brings me back to reality.

I turn away from the hologram and pick up a large knife, but drop it immediately—it's too much like the scene from earlier. Instead, I settle on a cast iron frying pan. Maybe I can knock him out with it if he tries to kill me again. When I re-enter the living room, Gale is standing there, looking angry. I ignore him and work my way towards the stairs.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the scene in the dining room—it's us in the sewers during the revolution. That explains all the hissing. I take a deep breath and focus on climbing the stairs. Gale follows closely behind.

At the top, it's much darker since there's only one small hologram in the hallway. I recognize the person before us—it's one of the doctors from the Capitol. I stop momentarily to listen to him.

"_Peeta, you must kill her before she kills you. You've seen all the evidence—she's wants to kill you and will soon be successful. She is evil. She killed and dismembered your family. You owe it to your family to seek revenge." _

So, we've switched from scenes of me killing him to people urging him to kill me. Great. Someone has gone to a lot of effort to try and mentally disarm two young people who just wanted to fade away from the public eye.

I turn around, not caring to hear or see anything else from the doctor. The door to Peeta's room is shut, but the telltale flickering blue light leaking from beneath the door makes it clear what we'll find in there. I touch the doorknob, but Gale grabs my hand.

"Let me go first."

I roll my eyes, but don't object. Instead, I hand him the frying pan, which he holds over his head as he pushes the door open. Inside, it's surprisingly quiet and almost peaceful compared to downstairs. Except for the scene in the middle of the room. This one is Haymitch, in all of his drunken glory, telling Peeta he needs to destroy me for the good of the country.

"Do you hear that?" Gale whispers.

"Haymitch?"

"No, running water."

I push Haymitch out of my mind and focus on the ambient noise. Yes, there is definitely the sound of water, which might explain the somewhat peaceful feeling I got when entering the room.

We both look to the other door, which must lead to a bathroom. Gales pulls me behind him again and we quickly move to that door. He grips the doorknob, but before turning it, whispers, "I will try to not seriously injure Peeta because I know that's important to you. But, so help me, if it looks like he's going to hurt you, I'll do anything necessary to stop him."

"He's not going to hurt me." I say matter-of-factly and with much more confidence than I feel.

Gale nods and then slowly turns the knob. As the door swings open, the sound of running water gets louder. Gale peaks around the edge of the door and then, apparently satisfied with the lack of a threat, opens if fully. The shower, bathtub, and both sinks have water pouring into their basins and down the drain, but no one is in there, other than a virtual Effie staring straight at us.

None of this makes any sense. If Peeta's not here, why is the water running? Even if he is here, why would he have every faucet in his bathroom turned on? I slowly turn around, taking in the scene. When I get to Effie again, I have to smile. She looks happy, upbeat—just like usual. She's quickly gesturing with her arms and I wonder what she's saying—I see her mouth move, but I can make out the words…. with the noise from all the water.

"Peeta must hide in here," I blurt out. "With the water, you can't hear anything."

Gale points to the far side of the room where a set of slatted double doors is built into the wall. He thinks Peeta is hiding in the closet. I run to the doors and pull them open before Gale can stop me. Peeta is on the floor, knees pulled up against his chest, and his head resting on top of them. His whole body is trembling. I kneel down and take his hands in mind. Slowly his raises his head, but his blank eyes are focused on the wall beyond me. He doesn't even seem to register that I'm sitting there next to him.

"Peeta, we need to get you out of here. Someone is playing mind games with you again."

But, I get nothing from Peeta. He just continues staring blankly. I squeeze his hands. "Come on Peeta. Let's go." I try tugging on his arm, but his weight is too much for me.

"Gale, help me," I yell over my shoulder.

Gale steps closer, but hesitates. "I'm not sure this is a good idea, Katniss. We have to pass through at least 4 holograms to get him outside. Any one of those could trigger an attack."

"Well we can't leave him like this," I hiss back.

Flashing me an angry look, Gale relents and grabs Peeta by his arms, hauling him out of the closet. But as soon as Peeta sees virtual Effie, he lets out a blood-curdling scream and pulls his arms from Gale's grip. He turns to face me, his eyes focusing intently on mine. In that split-second, I'm absolutely positive I should have listened to Gale earlier in the evening and just walked away. Why do I continue to tempt fate with Peeta?

* * *

**Author's Notes: What do you think? Do you want to read more? Should I continue? Thanks in advance for any constructive reviews!**


	7. Chapter 6

But before Peeta can act, Gale swings the frying pan, making contact with the side of his head. He collapses to the ground immediately.

"Sorry," Gale says while leaning down to pick up Peeta. He throws him over his shoulder and continues, "I didn't like the way he was looking at you."

I can't really blame Gale there. I didn't like the way Peeta was looking at me either—it was too much like a few days ago. "Let's just get him to my house so he can wake up someplace safe."

We quickly make our way through the ever changing, but consistently disturbing holograms and back to my home. I realize that I've never truly appreciated the peace and quiet of this place. Gale lays the unconscious Peeta on my sofa while I collapse into one of the side chairs. I sigh and roll my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension from the night, but when my eyes reach the ceiling, an unnerving thought enters my mind. If Peeta's house has been messed with, what are the odds that mine has, too? Are there video cameras? Microphones? Are they from Snow's reign or is someone monitoring us now? And why on earth would anyone care about what we're doing now? With Snow gone, I thought we'd be left alone.

I reach for one of Prim's old school notebooks and a pencil sitting on the end table. I flip to a page in the middle and quickly write, "Do you think my house is bugged, too?" I hold the cover partially closed and pass it to Gale who is now sitting in the chair next to me.

He barely glances at the note before saying, "Without a doubt." Then he pulls the page from the notebook and tosses into the fire. We sit quietly for several minutes. Gale watches the fire, I watch Peeta's steady breathing. Neither of us is willing to speak our thoughts for fear of someone overhearing us.

After a few hours, Peeta begins to stir on the couch. He touches his temple and moans. I rush to his side and hold his hand.

"Peeta, don't worry. You're safe here. Nothing's going to happen to you."

He opens his eyes. His confusion is apparent, but luckily, the rage has evaporated. He looks at me and then glances at Gale who's snoring in his chair. I slide myself onto the couch, sitting at his waist. I'm surprised by my intense feelings as I watch this disoriented boy try to process everything. I have a much better idea of what he's gone through now and know that there's a high likelihood he's damaged beyond repair. But maybe there's still hope. If we stop him from being tortured, maybe his mental state really can improve. Maybe we can still have a future as… As what?

I inwardly groan because that's a topic I'm not at all comfortable with. Especially now that Gale is back in my life—whether I like it or not. I can't really get rid of Gale since he did save my life, multiple times. Or maybe that just cancels out him killing Prim? I cringe at that thought because after our meeting in the woods, I'm well aware of just how guilty he feels and how those words would destroy him.

"What happened?" Peeta's hoarse voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Shhh… don't think about it right now. Once you're feeling better, we can talk about it."

"Did I hurt you again?" He looks alarmed, probably because he can't quite distinguish reality at this point.

"No, Peeta. I'm fine."

"You should be afraid of me. I shouldn't be here with you."

"Shhh… it's not your fault. We'll get to the bottom of this and everything will be fine." I run my fingers along his cheek to prove to him I'm not scared. He tenses.

"No, Katniss. Everything is not fine. I'm never going to trust myself around you alone. There's no predicting when I'm going to…" He pauses for a moment and then finishes, "have an attack."

I want to tell him that we've seen what they're doing to him. How they're programing him to kill me. My hope that we can reverse all the damage. But I'm afraid of who might be watching this scene unfold.

"Don't think about that right now. Just rest."

He closes his eyes, but his tension doesn't ease. My heart aches for him. He's been through too much. Things should be easier for him now that the revolution is over. He should be receiving help—someone trying to reverse the damage Snow did—but instead, he's being further tortured. And I don't understand why. How can I help him if I don't understand what's going on or who's behind it?

While I sit there thinking, Peeta's eyelids begin to flutter and then his jaw muscles start clenching. He must be dreaming.

"No… no!" he mumbles, now balling up his fists. "Don't... I won't do it!"

I want to help him like he helped me so many nights in the past. To take away some of the terror he faces whenever he closes his eyes. Terror that I'm all too familiar with now. Carefully, I lie down next to him and wrap my left arm over his waist. I rest my head against his chest and hum a lullaby I used to sing to Prim when she was little. Within seconds, his body relaxes. I continue humming until eventually, I feel my eyelids drooping and the surrender of sleep overtakes me.

When the first rays of light filter through the living room window, I enjoy my half-asleep state. I don't remember anything from the night, but have a pleasant feeling, as though I had a really great dream that's sitting on the edge of my consciousness, but I know I'll never remember it. I haven't felt this way in ages—my sleep has been cursed with nightmares for months now. Slowly, I continue waking up and realize that I haven't felt like this since Peeta used to crawl into my bed in order to keep the nighttime demons at bay.

Great. I was trying to help him and he ended up helping me... yet again. Hopefully, my presence allowed him to have at least a little more restful sleep. My arm is still encircling his waist so I tighten my grip a bit, enjoying the closeness of his body and the warmth that only he can provide.

My thoughts are suspended when I feel his hand trailing down my braid. My breath catches in my throat and I feel the nervous sensation deep in my belly. I need to get up quickly before something happens that we'll regret.

But before I can move, he says, "I remember this. Us lying like this. Our bodies close, touching. Real or not real?"

I gulp. "Real."

"Why?" No sign of anger, resentment, or love in his voice. Just inquisitiveness.

"It helped us both sleep. You know, with all the nightmares."

"Did you sleep better last night?"

"Yes, better than I have in months. You?"

"You have no idea. I woke up feeling… content, almost happy. Not fearful or angry like I usually do."

"Oh good. The two lovebirds are up." Gale's standing in the doorway with a scowl on his face and disdain in his voice. His appearance makes me bolt up from the couch.

"Gale. I forgot you were here."

"Oh, so you're not purposely trying to hurt me."

"Of course not."

"My mistake. For some reason, I just assumed that was the case since you can barely stand to be around me, but you'll sleep with someone who wants you dead."

"I don't want her dead," Peeta murmurs almost inaudibly.

"Maybe not right now, but I guarantee you will again. And what happens if I'm not around to save her?"

"You're right." Peeta sits up. "You're absolutely right. I can't be alone with her."

"Well, don't expect me to babysit while you two cuddle every night!"

"Gale! Enough!" They're talking like I'm not even there. Like my opinion doesn't even matter. "This is my house and I can do whatever I want here!"

"Including risking your own life!"

"Gale's right, Katniss. We shouldn't have done this." Great—now Peeta's on Gale's side.

"Both of you out!" I shout, pointing to the front door. Gale gives a gruff snort and then storms outside. Peeta stands and starts to follow, but pauses at the door.

"I'm sorry, Katniss, but, Gale's right. What would happen if I attacked you and no one was around to help?"

I bite my lip, but say nothing. Peeta turns and steps through the doorway.

I sigh, my anger beginning to ebb. I know they're both right. There was no reasoning with Peeta in the rain when he attacked me. The only hope we have is that there is some way to unprogram him, some way to reverse the damage from Snow and all the holograms. The holograms!

"Peeta! Stop, don't go in there!" I yell from the porch.

"Why?" He stops, one foot on the first step of his porch.

I sprint across the small patch of grass between our houses. Out of breath, I say, "We saw all of those horrific scenes playing out in every room of your house."

"Oh…"

"You can't live here anymore."

"Katniss, it's fine. They only come on for a few hours at night. It's… it's not a big deal." His hesitancy tells me that it is a huge deal, though.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Since I returned." He shrugs trying to convince me it doesn't bother him.

Suddenly, a few things make sense though. "Is that why you were always walking around town at night?"

"Yeah."

"But you stopped."

"After what happened, I was afraid of running into you again. I was… am ashamed of myself for what happened. I didn't want to put you at risk again."

"Peeta, you can't stay in that house. I've seen how they're torturing you. No one could endure that!"

"I don't really have anywhere else to stay." He shuffles his feet, embarrassed.

"Stay with me," I say softy.

"No. I'd rather be tortured for the rest of my life than put your life in danger ever again."

"Then, Haymitch."

He groans. "Would you stay with Haymtich?"

Of course I wouldn't. I'd rather live under a log in the woods, but I've got to be positive for Peeta. "If I were in your situation, yes. It won't be so bad. He's passed out half the time anyway"

"I'll think about it." He continues climbing the steps.

"Please, Peeta. For me," I plead. "Do it today."

He frowns, but eventually says, "Okay, fine. I'll go grab some things and then talk to Haymitch."

"I'll wait here for you." There is no way I'm letting him live in this house another night.

After a few minutes, Peeta emerges with a small duffel bag, and we head across the green to Haymitch's home. We enter without knocking and are shocked to find Haymitch sitting wide-awake and mostly sober at the kitchen table.

We quickly explain the situation, expecting Haymitch to be shocked by what's going on. Instead, he just shakes his head and says to no one in particular, "It's even worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?" Peeta asks.

Haymitch rubs his eyes. "Well, things aren't going exactly as planned in the Capitol."

**A/N: I'm getting a little worried by the lack of reviews. Is this too boring? Not enough action? Romance? Please share your thoughts!**


	8. Chapter 7

I pull out a creaky, old wooden chair and sit down. Sliding a couple empty bottles on the table aside, I say "Does that have anything to do with the new Hunger Games Coin is planning?"

"What?" Peeta and Haymitch ask simultaneously; the blood drains from Peeta's face.

"You didn't receive Coin's request to serve as a mentor?" I ask him.

He slowly shakes his head. "But I haven't checked my mail in days."

"I got mine yesterday, so I'm sure yours is in your mailbox."

Peeta turns and rushes out of the house, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

"What's going on Haymitch?" I need him to level with me. We haven't even had time to settle into a new routine and there's already more national turmoil.

"We don't totally know yet. And I really don't want you kids involved. You played your roles and paid the price. You should be left alone now." He takes a long pull from a brown bottle.

I knock the bottle from his hands, leaving a trail of clear fluid on the tabletop. "Clearly someone else has other plans, though. Look—if we're going to be forced into this, we have to at least know what we're dealing with!"

Haymitch sighs, puts his elbows on the table, and rests his head in his hands. "You're right. The problem is we're having a hard time figuring everything out."

"Who's we?"

He looks up. "Right now, me, Plutarch, Beetee, and Paylor."

"And what are you trying to figure out?"

"Coin's politics," he says with a sardonic smirk.

I give him a questioning look, so he continues. "You'd think Coin would be focused on rebuilding our country after everything we've gone through. Districts have been destroyed, resources are limited, there's no effective trade between the districts. But Coin has assigned just one Cabinet member to deal with our country."

"What's everyone else doing?"

"Foreign affairs for the most part."

"What?! Why on earth do we care about foreign affairs at a time like this?"

He leans back in his chair, tipping it up on the back legs. Placing his hands behind his head, he says, "That's the million dollar question, sweetheart."

Just then, the door opens and Peeta walks in reading the familiar silver parchment paper. After a moment, he stops and stares at us. "Why would she do this?"

"Because the country needs to heal," I say, sarcastically.

He shakes his head. "There can't be anyone who would support her in this."

"Well, it doesn't seem like she cares much about support," Haymitch says.

"We have to stop this."

Peeta stares at Haymitch. Haymtich stares at me. I close my eyes and sigh. "I just wanted to be left alone."

That evening, I sit on the top step of my porch and watch people in town make their way back to the makeshift campground. They're joking, laughing, and seem to be generally content with their simple lives. During the day, the rebuild what they can with the limited supplies and at night they talk, sing, or dance around campfires. Sure, there's not enough food to go around, but that's always been the case. And now that hunting isn't illegal, a few more people have been venturing into the woods. Plus, I've seen the amount of food Gale drops off. Hunting has become his full-time job for the district.

I pull my knees to my chin and wish that I could be content. That I had friends who weren't trying to kill me or who I didn't blame for my sister's death. That I didn't have to think about another Hunger Games or why Coin's focused on other countries instead of her own.

But, that's not my life right now. And it may never be. I know what I have to do, even though I'm completely dreading it. Eventually, I build up enough courage and make my way to the milling crowd. When I first get there, people gawk at me, but say nothing. I'm sure they're wondering what I'm doing since the only other time they've seen me, I was unconscious. I ignore their stares and continue searching for the person I need.

"Katniss! It's so nice to see you out and about!" Greasy Sae wraps a plump arm around my shoulders and gives me a tight squeeze.

"Hi Sae."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Gale. Have you seen him?"

"Oh sure. His tent is the next row over, a couple in from the far side. It's nice to see you two getting close again," she says with a wink.

Ugh. This is exactly why I don't talk to people—rumors will inevitably start to fly now.

I weave my way through the tents to where Sae pointed, avoiding all eye contact along the way. When I'm four tents from the end, I see his bent legs protruding from a makeshift tent, and it annoys me that I can recognize him by just his legs. I walk up to the legs and gently kick the sole of his boot with my foot. He peaks his head out from under the tarp and looks genuinely surprised to see me.

"So he hasn't killed you yet."

I give him a dirty look, which he just brushes off. "What brings you to the slums? Perhaps tremendous guilt and the overwhelming urge to apologize?"

"No. I meant every word I said."

"Hmmpf…. ," he grunts and ducks back under the tarp.

I sit at his feet and remain silent for a few minutes. I'm not exactly sure how I should ask this.

"Afraid to go home with him there?" Gale's muffled voice escapes the tent.

"No. He's staying with Haymitch."

Gale pops he head back out, this time with a grin from ear to ear. "So, you want me to keep you warm tonight?"

"No," I say. I just need to ask him what I came to ask before he jumps to any more conclusions.

"We've decided to visit Coin. To tell her that we're not being mentors and convince her that another Games is a terrible idea."

"Seems like a letter or phone call would be easier."

"But not as effective. Plus Haymitch has some concerns with Coin. We're going to use that time to gather intel."

"What kind of concerns?"

I explain the limited information Haymitch shared and can't help but notice Gale's rebellious side beginning to emerge.

"So, why are you telling me?" he asks, resting his forearms on his knees.

I scrunch my face because the next part is difficult to admit to Gale. "… because you and Peeta were right."

He raises one eyebrow.

"I can't be alone with Peeta. He might try to kill me. There—I said it. Are you happy?"

"Yes, I am. So, you _need_ me to protect you, then?" He smiles coyly, enjoying this way too much.

"I don't _need_ you. But it would put everyone's minds at ease. Plus you're probably not half-bad at gathering intel."

"I do believe that is a compliment coming from you."

I scowl. "So, are you coming or not?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?" He intertwines his fingers and stretches his arms out in front of him. "When do we leave?"

"In two days. Peeta called the Capitol and they're sending a train for us."

"They must think you're going to agree."

I shrug.

"So your plan is to tell Coin no and then just hop on another train back here?"

"We'll figure something out if we need to. Haymitch has friends—he can help us."

"Okay, then. Sounds like a well thought out plan." He yawns and leans back on his elbows. "You're more than welcome to join me in here tonight."

I stand, kick his boot again—hard this time—and then head back home.

The next two days go by slowly. Peeta refuses to be alone with me and I refuse to spend time with Gale. That means Peeta and I only get a few hours a day when Haymitch is sober enough to intervene if something should happen. And with Haymitch around, it means we can't really talk, at least not like we used to on the Justice Building steps. We end up sitting next to each other on the couch, holding hands while Haymitch makes snide comments. It's not ideal, and I feel my generally poor mood souring even more.

Of course, the nightmares are as bad as ever, so I'm sure my lack of sleep is also contributing to my foul mood. That and my anger at Coin for having another Hunger Games.

When we finally board the express train to the Capitol, Gale's excited, but Peeta and I are apprehensive. It's too familiar—too much like our previous trips.

Onboard, we turn left with the intent of finding rooms in the sleeping car, but Peeta pauses.

"That's weird. There's no food and no attendants here to help us."

"I guess Coin is bringing her District 13 sensibilities to all of Panem," I say.

We drop off our bags in our respective rooms and then meet in the observation car where we watch the rolling hills pass us by.

After a few moments, Gale asks, "So, have you come up with more of a plan?"

"Haymitch talked to Paylor, and she's expecting you."

"Isn't Paylor Vice President now?"

"Technically, yes. But according to Haymitch, she has no power. Coin lets her oversee numerous departments and committees, but she's been told in not so many words that things must progress as Coin sees fit."

"Interesting… And while I'm doing that, you two will be…?"

"Convincing Coin to cancel the Games," I say, never taking my eyes off the ever changing scenery out the window.

"I suppose you'll be using your everlasting charm and strong negotiating skills for that?"

I turn and glare at him.

Peeta places his hand on my arm and leans towards Gale. "Actually, we're hoping that by sharing our experiences, we'll give her a better perspective on the effect the Games have on the tributes… even the ones who win," he explains. "And we want her to ask the people if that's what they want. I can't imagine anyone sending children back to the arena—even if they are Capitol children. At some point it's got to be about forgiveness rather than revenge."

Gale smirks at me, "Maybe you can dust off your Mockingjay costume and speak to the masses again."

With that comment, I storm off to my room and spend the majority of the rest of the trip there, only coming out to accept the lukewarm mashed turnip stew from the single train attendant at mealtimes.

Two days later we pull into the Capitol and I'm shocked by the level of disrepair that remains. For some reason, I thought the Capitol would be rebuilt immediately, even if the districts were struggling. Of course the devastation here is different from the districts where everything was completely levelled. Here, there are certain areas that remain unchanged from before the Revolution, but then interspersed between, there will be a block or two that have been demolished. By following the path of destruction, you can see the exact route the rebels took when entering and eventually capturing the city.

As soon as we exit the train, a guard meets us and escorts us to the President's mansion where Paylor is waiting for us.

"It's nice to you see again," she greets all of us, but her gaze lingers on Gale.

"Peeta, Katniss, I'll show you to President Coin's office. Gale, it's a beautiful day, how would you like to go for a walk rather than meet in my stuffy office?" We can all read between the lines—_There's no privacy in this place—every action is watched and every word is recorded._

Gale nods, "Sure."

Unlike the disrepair outside, the inside of the mansion is as over-the-top as ever. It doesn't look like even one curtain has been wrinkled or one piece of furniture has moved as a result of the revolution. I can't imagine why Coin would want to live in this place that reeks of Snow—I can still smell the roses.

Paylor drops us off in the anteroom of Coin's office where her secretary welcomes us. While we wait for Coin, Paylor and Gale head back the direction we came. I watch their backs and am surprised by the emotion that hits me. Their friendly chatter and ease with each other seems too familiar. I'm suddenly wondering how and when they got so close. Were they trading war stories while I was stuck in the hospital recovering from burns inflected by his bomb? Or did the somehow meet up in District 13 during one of the many times I was too drugged to know what was going on?

My thoughts are interrupted by the squeak of a door. I turn to the sound and find Coin, looking exactly the same, staring at the two of us with her cold, gray eyes.

She gestures towards her office. "Won't you come in Mockingjay."

"You as well, " she says to Peeta, almost as an afterthought.

Peeta and I take seats opposite Coin and her massive desk. Staring down at us over the rim of her sleek, black glasses, she says, "I trust your trip here was acceptable."

"Yes, it was very nice. Thank you." Peeta is much more polite than I could ever hope to be.

"And now you'd like to discuss the 76th Hunger Games?"

"Why are you doing this?" I ask.

"I'm sorry. Did the letter not explain our rationale adequately?"

"The country doesn't need to watch more innocent children die in order to heal."

"Katniss, you are a teenager. How could you possibly know what the country needs? I've been groomed for this role for the past 40 years. Until the districts feel like the score has been settled, there will be no bringing the country together."

My body tenses and my fists clench at my sides.

Peeta quickly chimes in before I can lash out at Coin. "With all due respect, President Coin," he gives me a warning glance, "Wouldn't compassion and forgiveness send a positive message of what our country should strive for in the future?"

Coin shakes her head and makes an annoying tsking sound, like she's reprimanding schoolchildren. "There's no room for compassion in the government. Compassion is weakness. Our people need to see that the new government is stronger than ever. That we will make decisions that serve them best. That they must rely on us because we know what they need better than they do."

My anger boils over. "Enough children have died for Panem! Killing more will not accomplish anything! The people won't agree to this. You'll see—you're going to have an angry mob on your hands again!"

"Katniss, how can you continue to be so naïve? The masses will think whatever we tell them to think. Especially when it comes from the Mockingjay." Her mouth twists into a calculating and cunning smile. The meaning of her words slowly sinks in, causing an involuntary shiver to creep down my spine.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, alright, I hear you loud and clear-more romance! Just remember that this is intended to be a full length book, so we're not even a quarter of the way in yet. I want to develop the characters and the plot before rushing into the intimate scenes. Rest assured, though, this is ultimately a love story, so you'll get plenty of the scenes you crave! Please stick with me...**


	9. Chapter 8

I gape at Coin. I can't believe what she's suggesting. She really thinks I'll dress up in that ridiculous costume and promote another Hunger Games? The thought of it makes me sick.

"With all due respect," I say mockingly, "that is not something I am willing to do. You'll have to convince them on your own."

Standing, I turn to Peeta and say, "I think we're done here. Let's go."

Peeta stands and we walk to the door, but when my hand touches the doorknob, Coin addresses us again.

"Of course, it's your right to do whatever you chose. However, I am a powerful person to have on your side Katniss." After an extended pause, she adds," … And an even more powerful enemy."

I turn around to face her. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do. You've already lost so much in the revolution. I'd hate for you to lose the few precious things you have left," she says, glancing to Peeta.

My eyes narrow reflexively. So, she's going to threaten me. She's no better than Snow—they come from the exact same mold.

Her face changes slightly—a barely perceptible rise of the corners of her mouth—and she continues, "I do believe condolences are in order. I'm sorry I never expressed my sympathy over Prim's untimely passing."

I'm no longer thinking. My body reacts to her veiled threat the only way I know how—the way I've been forced to live. My hand drops from the doorknob and I take a determined step in her direction, my eyes holding hers in a steady gaze. I don't care that she's our new President. She is pure evil and I can kill her just as easily as I killed Snow. I take another step, but I'm pulled back to the door. Peeta has wrapped his arm around my waist, preventing me from getting any closer.

"Thank you for your time, President Coin," Peeta states stiffly. In my ear he whispers, "Not here, not now."

"Your old rooms in the training center are available, should you change your mind," Coin says to our turned backs, as we exit her office.

It's not until we're back outside and in the middle of the lawn where no microphones or video cameras could be hidden that we stop to talk.

As he lowers himself to the ground, Peeta says, "We should have never come here."

I sit down next to him and turn my face up to blue sky littered with small, wispy clouds. The sun beams down on us, and I welcome its warmth on my skin.

"Like that matters. She would have found another way to blackmail us. You realize that she's going to kill you unless I do what she wants, right? Just like she killed Prim. And how she's torturing you with those holograms. There's no doubt in my mind now that she's the one responsible for both of those things. I don't understand what she has against me… what she's always had against me."

Peeta reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine.

"Well, that's easy. She's threatened by you. Power is everything to her and you had all the power in the revolution—the people loved you , believed in you, idolized you, even. If there had been a vote for President, you would have beaten her hands down."

I yank clumps of perfectly manicured grass from the ground with my free hand and fling them in front of me. "But she knows I'm not interested in that."

"Looks like she has plans to use you to her advantage whenever possible, though." He pulls his knees up to his chest and rotates slightly so he's facing me.

"I can't let her control my life like that." My voice starts rising as my anger intensifies.

He shakes his head. "No, you can't. Tell her you won't do it."

My head snaps up, and my eyes meet his. "And risk your life? That's not something I'm willing to do either."

Peeta eyes the guard stationed at the front of the mansion. "What if we just disappear for a while? Go to another district or live in the woods for a while. Lay low till this blows over."

"Then she'll kill someone else who matters to me. My mother… Gale… Haymitch? I feel like I'm back where I was with Snow… afraid that anything I do could mean certain death for someone I care about."

He squeezes my hand, but doesn't reply. We sit like that, without saying a word, until Gale and Paylor approach us after their meeting.

"So, how'd things go?" Gale asks lightheartedly.

"Fantastic. Either I stand up before our country in support of another Hunger Games or one of you dies," I say, motioning between Gale and Peeta.

"Then I guess I'm lucky Peeta's death would bring you more suffering—I should be safe."

"That's not even funny," I say, rising from the ground with Peeta.

"Look, Katniss. For the past two years, associating with you has been a serious risk factor for getting beaten, maimed, tortured, or killed. Did you really think things would be different now?"

I know Gale's right, but having it be said that bluntly is unsettling. My friends and family shouldn't be targets just because I picked up a handful of berries in the arena. Plus, I killed Snow. That should've been the end of it.

Rather than responding to Gale's question, I focus on something else that's been bothering me. "I thought you might be surprised, since you seemed rather fond of Coin back in 13."

He looks to the ground. "Sometimes it just takes one thing to see someone's true colors," he says evasively.

"Did you find out something today that changed your mind?" I ask, looking to Paylor who stands rigidly at his side. Always in military mode.

Gale says, "No… no… just supporting evidence. My mind was changed months ago." Moisture builds in the corners of his eyes. He turns his head to hide his sudden show of emotion, but I know what he's thinking about—the day Coin dropped bombs killing innocent rebel children in a war that had already ended. The day she killed Prim just to make me suffer.

Paylor clears her throat, effectively ending the uncomfortable silence. "So, what are you going to do, Katniss?"

How can she ask me that? Isn't the answer obvious? "I don't really have a choice. I'll promote the Games so no one dies because of me."

"But 23 children will die."

Of course she's right. But I'm not about to sacrifice my friends and family for 23 Capitol children I don't even know. She can't possibly expect that of me.

Luckily Gale steps in before I say something I'll regret later. "Let's just tackle this one problem at a time. Katniss can do the promotion—so we don't face eminent death—and then we'll probably have at least a couple of weeks before the start of the Games. Plenty of time to come up with a plan to deal with that."

"That seems reasonable," Peeta chimes in.

Paylor purses her lips, but doesn't say anything. A cloud passes overhead, causing shadows to dance across her face, accentuating her clenched jaw and making her disapproval of this plan all the more apparent.

But it's decided nonetheless. I'll sell my soul to the devil and potentially sentence 23 children to death if we aren't able to come up with a successful plan to thwart the 76th annual Hunger Games.

After saying goodbye to Paylor, we make the short trek to the Training Center. Walking through the front doors brings a particularly macabre sense of déjà vu. Peeta and I glance at each other; I know he wants to hold my hand to make this a little easier, but Gale is between us.

"Whew… this is quite impressive," Gale proclaims with awe as we amble through the marbled foyer to the elevators. He looks up at the massive windows streaming in sunlight. "I was expecting something dark and depressing, not light and airy like this." He continues his praise of the Training Center without any regard to the effect this visit is having on me and Peeta.

When we enter the elevator, I finally interrupt his constant chatter. "Yeah, yeah, the Capitol spared no expense when it came to training children how to kill others in the name of entertainment." My words have the intended effect and he becomes silent.

We exit on the twelfth floor. Peeta hangs back in the elevator, allowing Gale to exit first. Then, he reaches for my hand, which I gladly give to him. In my ear, he whispers, "We'll get through this like we've gotten through everything else."

I nod, but wrap my fingers more tightly around his. Things never end the way I expect they will on my first day in this place, and it's always in a way that I could have never predicted. That makes me wonder what's in store for us this time.

We follow Gale to the common area. He peers through each of the opened doors into the bedrooms beyond.

"Any preference?" He asks us.

I point to the one on the right. "That's usually mine."

Peeta points to the one on the left. "That's mine."

"So I get the suite at the end of the hall?"

"Sure. That's Haymitch's room," I say.

Gale wrinkles his nose. "Perhaps I should fumigate it first then."

I give him a wan smile and reluctantly let go of Peeta's hand. I walk into my room and throw my bag on the bed. Everything looks the same. I peer out the window and am again shocked by the stark contrast of disrepair in the Capitol, but complete lack of damage in here.

I hear footsteps approach me from behind, but I don't bother to turn around. Moments later, thick arms wrap around my waist and I feel the warmth of him behind me.

"We were close here. Real or not real?"

"Real." I place my arms on his and pull him even tighter against me.

"You were freer here, more willing to share your true feelings. Real or not real?"

I pause. I'm not sure how to answer that question. Could he be right? It's true that I welcomed his closeness here, unlike back in the district. But wasn't that out of fear that our lives would be over in a few days? I wasn't being truer to myself, truer to my own emotions, was I?

"I… I don't know," I say honestly.

"Ahh… this must be part of the 'complicated' aspect of our relationship." He rests his chin on the top of my head and I lean into him, welcoming his contact.

"Seriously?" Gale asks from behind us. "We have to set some ground rules. If I'm expected to babysit you two to make sure no one gets killed, I don't want to see this," he says, waving his hands at our intertwined bodies.

Peeta pulls away. I scowl.

"Of course, Gale. I'm sorry. We shouldn't put you in an uncomfortable situation."

"Well…. good," Gale says awkwardly. I'm sure he wasn't expecting that response since I fight him on absolutely everything. "I just wanted to let you know that dinner is here," he adds before turning on his heel and exiting my room.

"You're too nice to him," I tell Peeta.

He shrugs. "I owe him a lot."

His words cause me to frown. I suppose he's right, but I have a hard time remembering that with Gale's cocky attitude.

"Shall we join Gale for dinner?"

I nod. We deserve some delicious Capitol food after the day we've had.

Unfortunately, the expectation of Capitol food is extinguished as soon as we enter the common area. I recognize the smell, but it's the bitter, overly cooked odor of District 13 food, not extravagant Capitol delicacies. Gale has already dug in, unaware of the further injustice Coin has delivered to us.

"Great. Beet soup and stale bread. Just what I had in mind for dinner," I say.

"I'll take yours if you don't want it," Gale says.

I protectively pull my small portion closer to me and begin eating without enthusiasm.

"So Gale, there's a nice garden on the roof that Katniss and I would like to show you. It has a great view of the city. How would you like to go up there after dinner?"

Gale looks up from his soup with a sneer. I'm sure he's about to make a snide comment, but then realization hits. He knows we can't talk openly here so he's probably figured out that's always been our safe place.

"That sounds lovely," he says with his ridiculous Capitol accent, spoon paused midway between his bowl and mouth.

Ten minutes later, we're climbing the steps to the roof and I hear the familiar clinging of wind chimes growing louder with each step. I'm glad no one has touched those—between them and the wind, we'll be able to talk candidly without fear of Coin recording us.

At the top of the stairs, I open the door and enter what served as our sanctuary whenever we were at the Training Center. I feel my blood pressure drop immediately, a sense of calm washes over me, and fond memories of me and Peeta come rushing back. It's funny how the mind can find peace in one unlikely spot amid a place that is otherwise completely horrid.

We walk towards the edge of the roof. Gale grabs the railing and says, "So, I'm assuming we can talk openly here?'

Peeta joins him. "Yes. What did you find out from Paylor today?"

Gale rubs the back of his neck. "Well, Paylor's concerned about Coin's leadership and intentions for the country. There was a meeting right after Snow's death where Coin, military leaders, and Coin's appointees met to discuss both the short-term and long-term plans for Panem. It became apparent immediately that there was a great divide among those in power."

"How so?" I ask, stepping beside Peeta at the railing and looking around him to Gale.

"Coin and her staunch followers set a short-term plan of providing the districts the bare minimum to get them back functioning so they can provide resources to District 13. "

His words take me by surprise and I give him a confused look. "But District 13 has always been self-sufficient. Why are the districts now taking care of them?"

"Because they need to focus their efforts on other things—things related to the long-term plan."

Peeta furrows his eyebrows. "That doesn't sound good."

Gale shrugs his shoulders. He looks to the darkening city. Every few seconds a new light turns on in one of the remaining buildings. Shops hoping to bring in some evening business. People settling into their homes for the night.

"I guess it depends on how you look at it. Coin wants to focus on the development of weapons and military training. She wants to make sure we're prepared to defend ourselves."

"From who?" asks Peeta.

Gale shrugs again.

"Are we talking nuclear weapons?" I ask, turning to face him, placing my hands on my hips.

"Not clear. She hasn't specifically said that, but people are worried that will be the case."

"Will the districts still be supplying the Capitol with resources, too?"

"Paylor mentioned that there hasn't been much sympathy for the Capitol during any of their meetings. Makes me think they won't be receiving any special treatment. If I had to guess, I'd say that they better learn how to take care of themselves like we've had to do."

I laugh. "I don't see that happening anytime soon! Coin better be careful. If she keeps rationing things for the Capitol people, she's likely to have an angry crowd show up at the President's mansion. They aren't used to that kind of treatment."

"She won't have to worry about that for too long. According to Paylor, there are discussions about moving the government to District 13, so they can better monitor the progress of the military."

A large hawk flies overhead, temporarily distracting us. It circles, first widely, but then in ever tightening arcs focusing on some unsuspecting creature below. Just as it dives downward, Peeta asks, "What are the plans of those who disagree with Coin?"

Gale meets his eyes. "To spend time and money on our people. To set up social programs to help those who have been affected by the rebellion. To establish infrastructure between the districts so we aren't so segregated."

"Seems like there could be an approach that makes both sides happy," Peeta says, as sensibly as ever.

"Apparently Coin isn't so willing to compromise."

I'm beginning to lose interest in this conversation. Coin is evil. Like we didn't already know that. "So, what exactly is Paylor's plan?" I ask, trying to wrap things up.

"To keep a close eye on Coin. They don't trust her and worry that there may be an ulterior motive behind each and every action she takes. They want to build up internal support in case she turns into another Snow. In case she becomes a dictator who works by her own personal agenda, rather than in the best interest of the people."

"And what's your plan?" I cringe as I ask him because I already know the answer. I knew from the moment Haymitch first mentioned all of this to me—Gale will want to be right smack in the middle of this. And even though it doesn't seem too dangerous right now, I know how quickly things can change.

His eyes narrow. "I didn't fight in the rebellion to put another power-hungry politician with questionable ethics and single-minded agendas in charge. I'm going to help Paylor and the Nationalists."

**A/N: For those of you who started reading this before 7/31/12, I've updated the prologue. I originally used that to set the stage by showing Kantiss killing Snow, but after some reviews, decided to use that as a chance to give readers a glimpse of what they can expect-to prove that this really is a love story! I think some of you might enjoy it a little more now :) If you do, let me know! **


	10. Chapter 9

"The Nationalists?" I ask with confusion, leaning against the railing so I can see Gale around Peeta.

"That's what their calling themselves."

"What's your role in this going to be?"

He shrugs. "Hard to say right now. It'll depend on how all of this plays out. How stubborn and unyielding Coin is. For now, when I'm not babysitting you two, I'll be at the Nationalists' headquarters monitoring the situation and developing a plan with the rest of the group. And Paylor, whenever she's able to slip away."

"Headquarters?" I ask raising an eyebrow. "They're already that organized they have a headquarters?"

"Well, it's more like the basement of a bar that's owned by someone who supports our cause. But it will work for now."

The three of us stand there, side-by-side looking over the now dark Capitol. Although I can't see it anymore, I know the forest lies just beyond the lights of the city, surrounded by a ramshackle wall that provides no barrier whatsoever. We could leave today, right now and forget about all of this. Forget about Coin's threats, forget about Paylor's plans for the Nationalists.

I sigh because I know that will never happen. We never run away—not one of us. We stay and deal with it no matter how much it ends up hurting us in the end.

After a few moments, Gale says, "So my thought is that during the day I'll be there and you two make sure you're never alone. That way, he," Gale waves his hands in Peeta's general direction, "can't try to kill you without someone seeing it and hopefully intervening. Then, at dinnertime, I'll come back and babysit through the night. Does that work for you?"

I nod and bite my tongue, so I don't say something rude and ungrateful. Peeta's more tactful and says, "Yes. Thank you, Gale. I appreciate everything you're doing."

Later that night, when I return to my room, there's a note on the dresser in that awful silver parchment paper.

_Katniss,_

_I'm glad to see you reconsidered my offer. Please meet me in the President's mansion at 8 AM sharp tomorrow morning, so we can begin filming your segments. Bring Peeta along, as well._

_Kind Regards,_

_President Coin_

I sigh. Just a couple days of this, and then we can go back to District 12 and be left alone, hopefully, forever.

I strip off my clothes and enter the shower, relishing in the warm stream of water hitting my back. I place my hand under the dispenser and push random buttons, waiting for some assortment of fragrant body gels to be dispensed, but nothing happens. I try a few more buttons, but again nothing. Frowning, I look around the shower stall. At the far end, there's a small bar of soap and a little bottle. I open the bottle and it smells clean, but not fragrant. This must be more of Coin's utilitarian ways coming to the Capitol.

After finishing my shower, I change into the one pair of pajamas I brought with me and crawl under the covers, although I'm quite certain sleep will evade me in this place. I stare at the ceiling replaying the events of the day in my mind, when a knock at the door startles me.

"Come in."

The door opens, and Peeta takes a tentative step in.

"I just wanted to say good night."

I smile. "Good night to you, too." We stay like that—him standing, me in bed—staring at each other. Eventually, I say, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes. But, I don't think that's a good idea."

I nod, feeling disappointed. It would have been nice to curl up beside Peeta tonight.

He says, "Well, I'll see you in the morning."

"Sure. Oh, wait, I forgot to tell you. Coin wants both of us at the President's mansion tomorrow morning at 8."

"Why me?"

I shrug.

"Okay, then. Good night, Katniss."

"Good night, Peeta."

Not even a minute after he leaves, there's another knock on my door. Perhaps he has changed his mind.

"Come in."

The door swings open and Gale saunters through, eyeing the contents of my room. He walks along the wall, running his hand over the dresser, and then makes his way over to the picture window. While staring at the lights of the Capitol, he says, "I noticed Peeta visited, and I just wanted to make sure you're still alive."

"Yes, I'm alive," I say, rolling my eyes at his back.

"Good." He continues staring out the window.

"Is there anything else Gale?"

Turning slowly, his eyes settle on me. He's frowning. He closes the gap to the side of my bed in two long strides and then sits down facing the front of the room, so I'm staring at his profile. "I'm worried about you, Katniss."

"I told you I'm fine."

"No, not about this. About your life."

I laugh. "How can you be worried about that when I don't even have a clue where my life's going?"

He purses his lips as though he's considering his next words carefully. "I see you and Peeta getting close again. But, what can come of that? He's unpredictable. You know that. You can't have a babysitter around for the rest of your life and you can't be alone with him."

He turns towards me, putting his left knee on the bed. "I'm worried that the more time you spend with him now, the harder it's going to be when you finally come to that realization yourself."

I watch him, but say nothing. Part of me thinks I should be angry with him, but another part of me knows he's right.

"I understand that you two have shared a lot. That he helps you deal with your past. But, other people want to help you, too." He gulps. "I want to help you, Katniss. And you would never have to be afraid with me. I promise I would keep you safe forever. I… I would do anything for you," he finishes shyly and looks to his wringing hands in his lap.

His sudden vulnerability takes me by surprise. This is exactly the second time in my life I've seen him like this—the first being in the woods when he confided in me about how responsible he feels for what happened to Prim. My nurturing instinct immediately takes over and I place my hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"I know Gale. It's just… not so easy. He helps me, like no one else can. And, part of me feels guilty for everything that's happened to him because of me."

"You can't be with someone out of guilt, Katniss!" He shyness leaves, and he's glaring at me with the typical fire in his eyes. "Furthermore, you have nothing to feel guilty about. He's been just as involved as you in all of this. He made his own decisions that led to what happened, too. He played the game just as much as you, probably more so!"

I pull my hand from his shoulder and stare at the wall, brooding. "I appreciate your relationship advice, Gale," I say sarcastically.

He lowers his voice. "I'm sorry." He rests his hand on my leg, but I swat it away.

"Do you love him?" he asks.

My mouth falls open.

"What? We're best friends. Wouldn't best friends talk about this type of stuff?"

I chuckle at the innocent look on his face. "You really want to talk about this?"

"I'm just trying to understand you."

I raise my eyebrows and give him a brief questioning look before looking back to the wall.

We sit in silence for a few moments before he presses again, "So, do you love him?"

"As persistent as ever," I mutter.

"You still haven't answered me."

I sigh. "I don't know. I don't really see myself with anyone long term. All I know is that I feel better when I'm with him. That must be worth something, right?"

Gale nods. "How do you feel when you're around me?"

"Mostly annoyed," I say, playfully punching him in the arm.

He lightly rubs the spot on his arm and says, "Well, that's better than nothing."

Despite the awkward subject of our conversation, this is the closest I've felt to Gale in while. It feels as though we're regaining part of our friendship. And I'm actually enjoying his company. It's nice to be sitting next to him, joking again.

"Tell me about the happiest day of your life," he says, rearranging himself on the bed so he's next to me with his back against the headboard and his feet extended in front of him.

I frown. He clearly remembers this from the first Hunger Games when Peeta asked me the same thing. "Why?"

"I'm not tired and there's nothing else to do."

I sigh. "It was when I… we," I correct myself, " brought Lady home to Prim." I give him the same one I gave Peeta, with a slight modification to reflect what really happened.

"Really?"

"Well, it's up there."

"Fair enough. What else is up there?"

I groan. Most of my favorite days have to do with Gale, during a simpler time when our biggest concern was getting food on the table. And he knows it, which is why he's pressing me.

I ignore his question and turn the tables on him instead, "Your turn."

He beams. "That's easy. The day you survived your first Hunger Games. You're up."

"Ummm… the first time my dad took me to the cabin and the pond. He taught me how to swim. It's the best memory I have of him. Your turn."

"The day you kissed me in District 2. Of course, the circumstances surrounding that were pretty horrible and the kiss didn't really count. We'll need to try again, so I can replace that memory with something even better," he says with a coy grin.

I shake my head. "I plead temporary insanity from everything that was going on then."

He laughs. "That's probably true. But you liked it just as much as I did."

I roll my eyes, but know he's right. That kiss with him was different from all my kisses with Peeta. There was an intensity that I'd never felt before. Maybe it was because of the war or maybe it was because of the strong feelings that have always existed between us—from friendship to anger to jealousy to one brief moment of passion.

He tilts his head down and looks up at me through his long, thick lashes. "We could always rewrite that memory tonight."

My heart stops, my breath catches in my throat. He slowly leans closer, giving me ample time to resist, but I can't move or speak. The memory of our one and only kiss burns though me. I anticipate the taste of his lips against mine, and the heat spreads from deep in my belly up to my chest.

He trails his fingers down the side of my face, heightening the sensations flowing through my body. He stops at my chin and gently tilts my head so I'm looking directly in his dark, inviting eyes. Leaning closer again, he parts his lips, and I feel his warm breath brush against my cheek. I close my eyes and hold my breath, expecting the pressure of his lips against mine. Instead, all I feel is a quick peck on the tip of my nose. I open my eyes in shock.

"Well, that's a good sign," he says smugly before standing and strolling out of my room, while I gape at him with open incredulity.

That night I get very little sleep. Between the filming on a cause I don't even remotely believe in to the unexpected and very unsettling encounter with Gale, my mind runs a million miles an hour. I can't believe I was going to let Gale kiss me. What about Peeta? Gale does have a point that a future with Peeta is virtually impossible. But I can't give up hope that we can find a way to make it work. I owe that to Peeta, don't I?

The next morning, after a quiet breakfast between the three of us, Peeta and I head over to the President's mansion.

In the elevator, he says, "I saw Gale leave your room last night."

I gulp. "He wanted to make sure I was okay."

"I just want you to know that I wouldn't be upset if things worked out between you and him. He's better for you—we all know that."

I touch his arm. "Don't say that. We'll get through this, Peeta." I have to believe that.

He shakes his head. "I can't even kiss you, Katniss!"

"Yes, you can," I say, biting my lip.

"Have you already forgotten about the time in the thunderstorm?" He's angry and frustrated.

I haven't forgotten. In fact, that memory has started taking front stage during my nightly terrors.

"We'll find a way to make it work," I say, trying to convince both of us.

We walk the rest of the way in silence and are met by the President herself at the front door of the mansion. "I'm so glad you could make it," she says as though we're arriving for a cocktail party, rather than being blackmailed into supporting an atrocious cause of her own.

"Let's just get this over with," I say without emotion.

Her mouth tightens into a thin line, but she says nothing as she leads us to an elevator and then several floors below ground level. When the doors open, we're met by the familiar site of a makeshift TV studio; however, our usual crew has been replaced.

"Where's Cressida?" I ask.

"She and I didn't see eye-to-eye on this project, so I opted to go with Renel here instead."

Renel nods, but makes no attempt to interact with me. In his navy checked suit, dark auburn hair, and thick black glasses he appears all businesslike as he orders cameramen around and adjusts the lighting of the teleprompter. I immediately dislike him and wish I would've made using Cressida a stipulation of our agreement.

"Where's my prep team?"

"No makeover for this. We want you to look natural. Just put on your Mockingjay suit and you'll be ready."

Well, that's the best news I've had with all of this. At least I won't have to suffer through being waxed and buffed and polished until I'm down to only a single layer of skin. But with that relief comes concern. I remember how my prep team was treated in District 13 and worry that Coin has tortured them again. I certainly wouldn't put that past her. And with that thought, I decide I need to protect myself before I go forward with Coin's plan.

"I have one stipulation to doing this," I tell her.

"I don't know that you're in a position to be negotiating," she says with that annoying, barely perceptible smile of hers.


	11. Chapter 10

I ignore Coin's comment and say, "Once I do this to your satisfaction, you'll leave me alone. I'm not going to allow you to control my life. I'll do this and then we're through. No more favors, no more blackmailing. This is it."

Coin's mouth spreads into a full on smile for once. "That I can agree to. I won't have any use for you once we're done with this."

She walks me to a small dressing room where I see the dreaded suit hanging. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I've gained weight and it won't fit anymore.

Coin says, "You can change here and then come out to the green screen. Peeta, you come with me."

"Where are you taking him?" I ask, the fear in my voice detectable.

"Somewhere he can watch your performance. Don't worry—you'll be able to see him the entire time." She leads him back the way we came. He glances over his shoulder and gives me a reassuring smile.

I groan after changing into the suit—unfortunately, it still fits perfectly. The only positive thing is that my bow and arrow are included. I can't believe Coin is allowing me access to it—she must not realize how much I hate her. I could end everything right now with one precisely aimed arrow. Of course, with all these witnesses, I'd probably end up with a life sentence in prison or worse. I sigh, acquiescing to the plan we've already devised.

I make my way to the green screen, searching for Peeta the whole time. I finally spot him to the right of the main camera in a small room with floor to ceiling windows. Coin's right—I'll be able to see him the entire time. He's sitting in a chair, looking at the ground and nodding. Someone must be talking to him. I walk towards the room so I can get a better view.

When I get directly in front of him, I gasp at the sight. He's not just sitting in the chair, his wrists and ankles are shackled to it. And talking to him is a doctor I recognize from District 13. The doctor is gaunt with thin, pale skin. I remember him having a circular bald patch on the top of his head, but it's now expanded into a horseshoe shape leaving the edge of his hairline right above his ears. His eyes are bloodshot and his hands visibly shake as he talks to Peeta.

Peeta is biting his lip, but continues to nod as the doctor holds a small rectangular object in front of him.

I pound on the glass. "What's going on?" I scream to no one in particular. "Let him go! He doesn't need to be in there. I'll do whatever you want!"

Suddenly, Coin appears next to Peeta with a microphone in her hand.

"I know you will," she says into the microphone, her voice broadcasting out to the entire room. "This is just to confirm that. I'm sure we'll have no need for Dr. Aurelius' services today."

I hold my hand to the glass for Peeta and whisper, "I'm sorry." He gives me a strained smile and mouths back "I'm fine."

I stalk to the green screen with the intent of finishing the filming as soon as possible. Renel hands me the script, which I skim through. It's awful, but no worse than I expected.

A few minutes later, everyone is in place and we're ready to get started. I turn towards the camera and read the script off the teleprompter.

"_Congratulations Panem. With your fortitude and perseverance, we're no longer under the tyranny of Cornelius Snow. We have a new leader, committed to ensuring this country achieves its potential. But before that can happen, we need to heal as a nation. We need each and every one of you to feel secure in your new country. _

_As a Hunger Games victor, I can tell you how much resentment I feel towards the people of the Capitol. How could they, year after year, sentence innocent children to death as a form of entertainment? It's time, Panem, for us to seek retribution. It's time for a Hunger Games with Capitol tributes, so they can feel the pain we've felt for the past 75 years."_

When I finish, I look to the crowd watching me. No one says anything. In fact, no one gives any indication that they even realize I've finished. They're all staring at me open-mouthed.

I shuffle my feel uncomfortably, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, Renel breaks the silence. "That was dreadful."

He looks to Coin. "I thought you said she was a natural? She had no emotion in her voice at all. It's like she was reading a recipe for minced meat pie!"

I interrupt Renel's assessment of me. "I'm terrible on camera! I've always been terrible on camera. I'm only good if I'm caught in action and saying something I believe in." I glare at Coin. "I'll never believe in this so you'll have to accept my performance for what it is!"

I yank off the microphone and start to storm off the stage when Coin's voice stops me dead in my tracks. She's still in the room with Peeta, her mouth against the microphone.

"You said you would complete these spots to my satisfaction, Katniss. That performance was not to my satisfaction. I suggest you put a little emotion behind the words."

"Or what?! Are you going to torture Peeta in front of all these witnesses," I say waving my hands to the group, "just because I'm a terrible actress?!"

Saying nothing, she nods to Dr. Aurelius, who places the rectangular object to Peeta's neck and then pushes a button. A short scream escapes Peeta's lips and then his whole body begins shaking violently. His limbs tense uncontrollably against the shackles and his head flops to the side. All I can see is the whites of his eyes, as they roll up into his head.

"Stop! Stop!" I scream, running to the glass. I hit my palm against it. "Leave him alone! I'll do it again. I'll do a good job, I promise. Just stop!" I clench my hand into a fist and pound on the glass with all my force, as Dr. Aurelius continues to hold the weapon to Peeta's neck.

After a moment, Coin nods to the doctor, and he lowers the device. Peeta slumps in the chair, his eyes closed and drool escaping the side of his slack mouth. I stand there watching him for a couple minutes until his eyes finally blink open in confusion. Coin's voice resonates over the speaker, "Let's try that again, Katniss."

I return to the green screen and read the script again. This time, I channel my anger for Coin and Dr. Aurelius into my performance. I spit out the words and shoot daggers with my eyes to the two people I despise most. If anger is what they want, that's what they'll get. At the end, I even add my own words, as I glare at Coin with contempt.

"_It's time we stop letting others scare us into submission. It's time we take our lives back and show them that we are strong and will prevail against all odds!"_

I'm sure it will be edited out, but at least it makes me feel better. Again, when I finish no one moves a muscle. Although, this time I see fear in their eyes, not shock at my utter lack of on-air talent. No doubt they're all wary of how Coin will react to my ad hoc addition to the script. I stare at Coin, who finally picks up the microphone and says, "That will do for today. Thank you, Katniss. Same time tomorrow, please." She's all business again, like she didn't just zap Peeta to within an inch of his life.

Everyone in the room starts moving around, methodically completing their duties without so much as a glimpse towards me or Peeta. I hope it's out of embarrassment that they're involved in such an appalling situation. Why would these people agree to help Coin with this? And then it dawns on me—she's probably threatening each of them in some way, too.

They release Peeta from the room and he stumbles over to me. I grab his arm and hold him steady as we head back to the Training Center. Lunch is waiting for us when we arrive, but neither of us can eat after what we've been through. Instead, I change clothes and then we climb the stairs to the roof. I'm vaguely aware of how Gale would not approve of us being alone, but Peeta's in no shape to attack me right now. And, we have plenty of time before he returns—we'll be sure to meet him outside the Training Center at precisely 5 PM.

We lie down on the rooftop, under the wind chimes, and try to forget about the day. My head is resting on Peeta's chest, while he plays with my hair.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta," I say. "I had no idea they were going to do that to you."

He wraps his arms around me. "Of course you didn't. Don't worry about it. I'm fine now. Only a couple more days and we'll be done with all of this."

"Did it hurt?"

"Not really. It was a quick shock, but then I don't remember anything after that. It could've been worse…"

I cringe at that thought. What if it is worse next time? How much of this can he endure? How much can I endure? I know that I'm going to have to do a better job. I'll have to appease Coin no matter how difficult it is.

Hours later, an enraged voice startles me.

"What the hell are you doing up here?!" Gale screams from the doorway.

The sun is setting, and I immediately realize we must have fallen asleep. It's well past 5 PM.

I pull myself into a sitting position, as Gale continues his rant. "You agreed that you wouldn't be alone with each other! I've spent the last two hours searching for you, sure that Peeta managed to kill you somewhere!"

I point to my bow lying next to me. "We took precautions," I mutter.

"I'm sorry, Gale. We messed up. We had a pretty rough morning and weren't really thinking straight," Peeta says.

"From now on, when you're done with Coin, you come straight to the Nationalists' headquarters. I'm not living through another two hours like I just had!" he yells and begins marching back downstairs. We stand and follow him quietly.

That night, no one comes to visit me in my room; instead, I'm left alone with my thoughts. I reflect on what Peeta said in the elevator earlier in the day. He was basically giving me permission to be with Gale, to leave him behind. And Gale has been crystal clear that he wants to be with me. But what do I want? And is what I want realistic given the world we live in? In the early morning hours I finally fall into a fitful sleep riddled with nightmares of Peeta being tortured, me being killed by Peeta, and Gale trying to kiss me. I wake up more exhausted than I was the night before.

A knock on my door alerts me to breakfast. I quickly change clothes and head out to the common area where Peeta and Gale are already seated. We eat in silence and then all three of us leave the Training Center together.

Peeta and I arrive to the studio at 8 AM sharp. But instead of video cameras, there are still cameras and large flashes surrounded by tremendous white boxes. At the back of the studio is a painted backdrop depicting the arena from the 74th Hunger Games, my Hunger Games. The Cornucopia is the center of focus, but tributes can be seen scurrying around. I immediately pick out Rue and then Cato. My body shudders reflexively at the memories.

"What's going on?" I ask Renel, who has stepped beside us to adjust a flash.

"Photo shoot. We figured we could all use a little break after yesterday," he says glancing between me and Peeta. His voice is businesslike, but his look says more. I suddenly have a little more respect for him and wonder what Coin is holding over his head.

Peeta goes into his room, where Coin is already stationed, but I feel better about it today. There's not much I can do wrong with a photo shoot. He should be free from torture for the next few hours, at least.

Renel barks orders to the photographer who lines up the camera and lights. He then places me in front of the backdrop and provides directions on how to stand. Overall, it's not nearly as bad as yesterday. Once everything is lined up appropriately, the photographer steps behind his camera and clicks the shutter button. The flashes go off, and I'm momentarily blinded.

What happens next is a blur. While my vision is still a solid sheet of white, I hear a scream of rage emanate from the speaker. Then, Coin yells, "What's going on with him? What did you do?!"

When my vision returns, I can see the commotion in the glass-walled room. Peeta has that deranged look on his face and he's jerking against his restraints. Coin is gawking at him with fear and confusion, while yelling at Dr. Aurelius. Then, suddenly, Peeta pulls one arm and both feet free of the shackles. He grabs the chair, which is still attached to one hand and hurls it against the glass. The wall between us shatters and Peeta makes a beeline straight towards me, yelling profanities the entire way as he drags the chair behind him.

I back up, ready to run, but trip over a wire. I'm on the ground, completely vulnerable, and he's only a few feet away. I scramble backwards but reach the backdrop. There's nowhere else for me to go. He's so close now that I can see the sweat beading up on his forehead. Why is no one trying to help? Why are they all just watching this play out? I pull my bow to the front and load it with an arrow. Drawing back on the string, I aim directly for Peeta's chest.


	12. Chapter 11

"STOP!" An unfamiliar voice echoes through the small, makeshift studio. "DON'T DO IT, KATNISS!"

It breaks my concentration and, in that split-second, Peeta is kneeling on top of me. He reaches for my throat, but I shield myself with the bow. He snarls and tries to pull it away, but the chair dangling from his wrist impedes his movement. Then he changes tack—he lifts the chair overhead—and I know I only have a moment before it will come crashing down on my skull. I reposition my arms to take the brunt of the blow.

I hear it before I feel anything. A sharp crack that could either be my arm fracturing or the chair breaking apart. But seconds later, it's obvious which one it was, as the pain commences. It feels like I've been hit by a sledgehammer. A sharp and piercing pain radiates from my left forearm, followed by a flood of heat moving into my chest. I wince and try to protectively cover my arm, but Peeta's lifting the chair again.

When the chair is at its peak, he rises on his knees slightly. I take advantage of the situation and pull one of my legs out from beneath him. He's distracted by my movement, giving me the opening I need. I draw my knee to my chest and drive it forward with all my strength, meeting him squarely in the gut. His body bends backwards, and he exhales forcefully, but he's still pinning my other leg. I struggle against him, trying to free myself, but he recovers in no time. He's got the chair over his head again and brings it crashing down on my outstretched forearm one more time. But there's no pain now—it's numbness that spreads, followed by a wave of nausea. He raises the chair yet again and I try to shield myself, but I'm on the verge of being sick.

I turn my head to the side and finally see someone running towards us. It's Dr. Aurelius. He grabs the chair and tries to pull it from Peeta's grip, but he's no match for Peeta's strength. Peeta easily jerks it free from his hands and focuses back on me. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I raise my arms, readying myself for another hit, when Dr. Aurelius leans into Peeta's ear and whispers something. I see his lips move, but can't make out the words. The effect is immediate. Peeta's face relaxes, his eyes clear, and he drops the chair. It becomes obvious when he's assessed the situation for what it is—with wide eyes, he bites his trembling lip. In no time, his eyes become misty with the threat of tears.

Dr. Aurelius unlocks the one remaining shackle, freeing Peeta from the chair. He touches my left arm, which is now a brilliant and mottled shade of red that is rapidly spreading. "I'm… I'm … so sorry," he says before standing and running out of the room with his head held in his hands.

"What the hell was that?" Coin yells from behind the broken glass wall. This is the first time I've ever seen her lose her cool. Was she not aware of how her holograms and mind games with Peeta manifest in real life?

"This is what you're doing to us!" I scream at her in fury. "This is what your constant torture does to him! Even if you never bother us again, we'll have to live with this for the rest of our lives!"

Her eyes dart from me to Dr. Aurelius and back to me. For a brief second, I think I see a flash of uncertainty in them.

But that look is quickly replaced by her usual cold, stone-faced exterior, as she says, "You're clearly upset and not thinking straight, Katniss. Let's call it a day. Dr. Aurelius, take care of her arm." Then she marches out of the room without further comment.

To me, the doctor says, "Let's go up to my office."

"I'll pass," I say coldly and grab my bow with my good arm.

"I think your arm's broken."

"Really? How many years of medical training did it take for you be able to determine that?" I spit out at him.

"I'll need to set it so it heals properly. I'd hate for you to lose function in that arm."

"I'm sure you would," I say over my shoulder as I walk away from him, cradling my left arm to my body to minimize the shooting pain that comes with even the slightest amount of movement.

He catches up to me as I wait for the elevator. "I know you don't trust me. You have no reason to trust me. But, I would like to help. I owe that to you… and Peeta," he says.

I turn and catch a sadness in his eyes before he averts his gaze.

He continues, "Here's my card. I included directions to my office on the back, should you change your mind."

The elevator doors open and I enter without responding. I place the card in one of the many pockets Cinna included in my suit and then head back to the Training Center. Hopefully, Peeta will be there so I can show him that I'm fine and we can somehow try to get through this.

Not surprisingly, though, the Training Center is quiet and empty when I return. The nausea still hasn't subsided and my arm has started throbbing, so I lie down on the couch in the common area to rest and wait for Peeta's arrival. At some point, I must have passed out from either the pain or pure exhaustion because the next thing I know, I'm being poked in the side. When I open my eyes, Gale is sitting on the coffee table with a bowl of broth.

"Hungry?"

"Ugh… no," I say with a frown.

"Looks like you put up a pretty good fight," he says nodding to my arm.

"I think it's broken."

"Maybe you should see one of the fine doctors here in the Capitol."

"An offer was made. I declined."

Gales grabs a small square container from the table and holds it up to his face. "Was that offer by a… Dr. Aurelius?" he asks, reading the label.

"Yes," I groan.

"Well, looks like he left some pain killers for you, if you'd like them."

My eyes light up. "Those I'll take. Give me one."

He hands me a small, translucent square, no bigger than the tip of my thumb.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"The directions say to place it on your tongue and let it dissolve."

I do as Gale says, and the throbbing immediately subsides. I close my eyes and moan in relief.

"Better?"

"Un huh."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

I open my eyes and expect Gale to have a smug, 'I-told-you-so' look on his face, but instead he looks contemplative.

"I'm sure you already know."

"I know Peeta's side, but I'd like to hear yours."

I shrug. "I was having a photo shoot and something set him off. He attacked me again. This time with a chair," I say, sticking to the facts. "When did you talk to him?"

"He came to where I've been during the day," he says, evasively.

So, Peeta is at the Nationalists' headquarters. At least he's someplace safe and not wandering aimlessly through the Capitol.

Gale continues, "He plans on staying there for a while."

"Why?"

Gale raises his eyebrows. "Isn't that obvious?"

"So, he plans on avoiding me then. How long is that supposed to last?"

A disbelieving look flits across Gale's face before he hands me a piece of folded paper and says, "He asked me to give you this."

I unfold it and read Peeta's delicate handwriting:

_Dearest Katniss,_

_Words cannot describe how terribly sorry I am for what happened today. When I came to and saw what I had done, I felt like part of me died. I want nothing more than for us to grow close again, but I think we have to accept our fate. I'm a dangerous animal that could snap at any moment. I'm not willing to continue to put your life at risk. I'm grateful for the time we've shared the past few weeks. Despite everything we've gone through, I feel myself falling in love with you all over again. Unfortunately, sometimes love isn't enough. _

_You'll be forever in my thoughts- _

_Peeta_

My mouth drops open and I stare at the paper. He's telling me goodbye. And not even giving me a say in the matter.

Gale asks, "What did he write?"

I can't answer him, so I just pass him the letter. He quickly reads it and then sets it down on the table. Cautiously, he slides his body next to mine on the couch.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I know how hard it is to give up someone you love," he says. "And even if you can't admit it, I know you love him."

A lump forms in my throat. I try to swallow, but the lump just gets bigger. I stare straight ahead, not focusing on anything in particular. If I focus on something, the tears that are building in my eyes will begin pouring down my cheeks.

Gale notices. "It's okay to cry."

I shake my head, more for myself than him.

I'm not sure how long we sit like that, but eventually, he picks me up and carries me to my room. He places me on the bed and then lies down next to me. Pulling my body close, he holds my head to his chest and strokes my hair.

"I'll always be here for you, Katniss. Please don't forget that." I hear him say before I drift off to sleep.

The next morning, I'm awakened by Gale brushing a stay piece of hair behind my ear.

"Good morning," he says when I open my eyes.

I'm momentarily shocked by his presence. Did he stay with me all night? Even when he took care of me back in District 12, he never laid next to me. I immediately feel guilty—how can I do this to Peeta? But then the awful memories from yesterday come rushing back. Peeta's gone. And my arm is killing me. I groan, and Gale reaches over to the bedside table. He pulls out one of the painkillers, which I greedily accept from him.

"Would you like me to go to the President's mansion with you today?"

I shake my head.

We get up and have a quiet breakfast, just the two of us. Peeta's absence is overwhelming—I have to excuse myself before I've even finished. Back in my room, I retreat to the shower where I finally unleash my tears and sobs under the security of the water, where Gale can't see or hear me. When my sobbing finally calms to quiet hiccups, I take a half-hearted shower with my one functioning arm. As soon as I turn off the water, I hear pounding on my bedroom door. I hastily wrap a towel around me and walk to the sound. "What?!" I ask with annoyance as I open the door.

"What are you doing in there? I've been knocking for 10 minutes," he says with equal annoyance. But then he catches my reddened eyes and his face softens. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. Thank you," I say with embarrassment and close the door.

A few minutes later, Gale walks me to the President's mansion. After three more attempts of me telling him I'm fine, he finally heads off to the Nationalists' headquarters and I make my way down to the studio. I contemplated writing a letter for Peeta, but I don't know what I'd say. I want to tell him to come back, that everything will be alright, but we both know I can't make that promise. And what if he causes more than a broken arm next time? If I were lucky enough to live through it, we'd just be thrust into this cycle again.

I sigh as the elevator doors open and I enter the studio. Things are set up like yesterday, which must mean we're going to try the photo shoot again. I notice that the broken glass has been fixed and Coin is sitting in the room with a very tired looking Dr. Aurelius. Peeta's not there—not that I expected him to be—but I wonder how Coin will feel about that.

Renel pulls me over to the backdrop, and the photographer directs me into various poses again. I'm grateful that he's mindful of my left arm, which I can only hold straight down or tight against my body. I apologize because I know he's not getting the shots he wants, but he says he'll make them work. It seems like we've all grown a little closer over the last two days. After a few hours, when my arm starts throbbing again, Renel tells me we're done for the day.

As I walk towards the elevator, Coin's voice echoes through the room, "Tell Peeta I'll expect him here tomorrow. No exceptions."

Great. Peeta has no intentions of ever seeing me again, and I need to somehow convince him to come here with me tomorrow. And for what reason, so that he's not tortured or killed by Coin? He'd probably welcome that at this point. There's no way he'll agree to come back here.

While I'm waiting for the elevator, Dr. Aurelius joins me again, like he did yesterday.

He asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Did you get the painkillers I sent?"

"Yes."

"Here's a splint," he says passing me a gray piece of fabric with various straps hanging off of it. "The immobilization will help with healing."

"Thanks," I mutter, taking it from his hands.

"I'd still like to do a thorough exam Katniss. Please feel free to stop by my office if you have any questions about..." he pauses and then finally finishes, "your condition."

His awkward demeanor causes me to look at him, really look at him for the first time today. His eyes droop with dark bags under them and tight lines at their corners. His skin looks paler than usual, and his jaw is set in a hard line. He looks stressed and completely exhausted. Maybe torturing others has finally taken its toll on him.

The doors open, and I enter the elevator without saying a word. As the doors begin closing, he says, "I have answers for you, Katniss."


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry, this is a short chapter. But, it's a pivotal one, so please be sure to read it!**

* * *

Back at the Training Center, I take another pain killer and retreat to my bedroom. It's only mid-morning, but I have no plans for the day and absolutely no motivation to do anything, so I climb into bed, hoping to take a long nap.

Unfortunately, after only a couple hours, the inevitable nightmares hit and I wake up screaming. I roll over and find myself staring at Gale's leg.

"Hey," he says, looking down at me. He's sitting with his back against the headboard fiddling with the splint that I never bothered to put on. He places it on the bedside table and then tugs on my braid.

"How are you feeling?"

Ignoring his question, I ask, "What are you doing here?" My breathing is still labored from the nightmare.

"I was worried. How are you?" he asks again.

"Fantastic."

"For some reason, I don't believe that."

After a few moments of silence, he continues, "Do you want to get some fresh air? There's a park not too far from here."

I actually thought staying in bed for the rest of the day sounded pretty appealing, but I know there's no way I'll be falling back asleep anytime soon.

Sighing, I say, "If you want to."

"I do." He jumps off the bed with too much enthusiasm. "Let's go."

I groan and roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "Give me a few minutes."

"You never used to be this lazy, Catnip," he says, teasingly.

"You could cut me a little slack… I do have a broken arm."

"I've seen worse," he replies with zero sympathy. "But you should probably put this thing on," he adds, tossing the splint to me.

I groan again, but force myself to sit up. After spending ten minutes arranging and rearranging the straps of the splint into a position that seems to work, we walk to a tiny park in the middle of the city.

Before the rebellion, this place was probably very nice. Now, it's a collage of toppled stone rubble, singed grass, and ash-like debris. We skirt around the splintered and jagged concrete sidewalk, opting for the soft dirt instead. As we approach the center circle of the park, I run my hands along the smooth marble remains of what was probably part of a bench, but is now a lone pillar, its glistening white surface and precise gray veins in sharp contrast to the rest of the devastation. The one nice thing in the park—the thing that actually brings a smile to my face—is the central statue of Snow that someone has beheaded. I'd love to add a similar one of Coin—they could be a matching pair.

Sitting down on a large rock, I ask, "What exactly are we doing here?"

Gale settles next to me. "I thought we should talk."

"We could've done that on the rooftop."

"You needed to get out of the Training Center. And this place is just as safe."

Gale's right. There's no way Coin would be monitoring this wasteland. And none of the Capitol people seem to come through here. In fact, very few Capitol people are even walking around town.

"Where is everyone?"

"Who?"

"The Capitol people?"

"They don't spend much time outside anymore. Apparently, seeing the devastation is too much for them. You know how they like everything to be beautiful and perfect," he says in his Capitol accent.

I let out a quiet laugh. It's like the old days when we used to sit in the woods and poke fun at the Capitol. It's refreshing and soothing and makes things seem a little more normal than they actually are.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask.

"Our plan."

"I didn't know _we_ had a plan."

"Of course we do. You're going to finish the promotion for Coin, then we'll figure out a way to stop the games, and then…" He stops and looks at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for me to finish his sentence.

I stare straight ahead, saying nothing.

Finally he relents and turns towards me. "And then you plan to go home." It's more of a statement than a question.

I'm not sure why, but it annoys me. Maybe because I feel like he's already assuming our lives are somewhat connected with Peeta out of the picture. Or maybe it's because I can't even bother to make plans for an afternoon, let alone the rest of my life.

"I haven't really thought about it," I say curtly.

"The Nationalists could really use you."

I gape at him incredulously. He, of all people, should know how much I want to be out of the spotlight. How little interest I have in the politics of our nation.

"There's always someone who wants me to be their puppet. Thanks for the offer Gale, but I decline."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Not as a puppet. You have a good head on your shoulders. We could use that. We're trying to develop a strategy and the more minds we having working together, the better."

"Still not interested. I belong in District 12, not here."

"It wouldn't be forever. Just a few months."

I shake my head. Can't he just get it through his thick skull that we are very different people? I know he wants to change the world, but all I want is a simple, quiet life.

Looking at his shuffling feet, he quietly asks, "Will you do it for me?"

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "No."

"Come on, Katniss. I don't want you to go home alone. I'd feel better if we were together. But I really want to see this thing through."

"Sorry I'm cramping your style," I say, standing.

He grabs me by my good arm and pulls me back to my perch. "Don't be like this. I know you're going through a lot, but there are other things going on, too. Things that affect the entire country, not just you."

My eyes narrow reflexively at his accusation. "And there are plenty of people to take care of those things. I don't need to be involved. And I don't need you to accompany me back home."

I stand and start walking back to the Training Center. This time he lets me go.

That night, still upset from my talk with Gale, I fall into a troubled sleep, replete with the usual nightmares. But it's a new one that has the greatest effect on me.

We're in the Quarter Quell arena. It's just before midnight and we're on the beach, running away from where the impending storm will strike. Once we get well into the next section of the clock, we take a moment to catch our breath. Finnick lowers Mags to the sand, and Peeta turns to me.

"We should be safe here," he says, wrapping his arms around me.

I nod and turn into his chest, so I won't have to watch the imminent blood rain downpour.

"Sorry to interrupt such a tender moment, but can you hand me the spile? We need to get something to drink while we have a break," Finnick says from behind me.

I reluctantly push away from Peeta and reach into my pocket for it. As soon as I have the spile in my hand, the lightening strikes, startling me and causing me to drop it. I lean over to pick it up, but am knocked to the ground when something strikes me forcefully on the back.

The wind has been completely knocked out of me. I try to scramble to my knees, but it's dark and I can't breathe. Instead I crawl on my belly in a sad attempt to get away from whatever my newest attacker is. Maybe a great dane–sized owl or a giant tarantula with the head of a dragon. I search the darkness but don't see the offending creature. Then Peeta's coming towards me. Good, he'll help me. He'll fend off whatever attacked me.

But instead of helping me, he grabs me by the shirt and pulls me to a standing position. My breathing is coming in gasps. He wraps his fingers around my neck and lifts me off the ground. I reach for his arms, trying to push him away, but it's no use. My feet are now dangling six inches above the sand, and all oxygen is cut off. I know it's only a matter of seconds before I pass out.

Why is Peeta trying to kill me in the arena? Why is no one trying to help? Where's Finnick?

Then, out of the darkness, I hear, "I have answers for you, Katniss."

I try to turn my head, but Peeta's grip holds me steady. At the corner of my vision, I see a flash of movement, and then Finnick is standing behind Peeta. Only it's not Finnick anymore, it's Dr. Aurelius. "I owe that to you… and Peeta." My vision begins to cloud, but I see him lean into Peeta's ear and whisper something. Immediately, Peeta opens his hands and I tumble to the ground.

I wake up in a pool of sweat, but know I have to see Dr. Aurelius immediately. With everything that's happened, I forgot that he had whispered something into Peeta's ear in the studio. Something that completely stopped his attack. What was it? And can anyone do that? Is it possible that I could stop Peeta's attacks just as easily if I knew the right words?


	14. Chapter 13

I frantically search through the pockets of the Mockingjay suit until I find the small, now crumpled card from Dr. Aurelius. The front has his name and title, Chief Medical Officer to the President, but nothing else. I turn it over and on the back, scrawled in barely legible script is "See me before it's too late. Sub-basement of the President's Mansion, room 0212. "

It's well past midnight, and I know he's probably not there, but since I'm positive I won't be falling back asleep, I hold out hope and make the short trek to the mansion. I'm met at the front door by an armed guard, no doubt wondering what the Mockinjay could possibly need at this time of night.

"What can I do for you, Miss Everdeen?" he asks formally.

"I need to see Dr. Aurelius. It's an emergency."

Fear creeps into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

I ignore his question. "It's very important. He's expecting me," I lie.

He nods and opens the door, allowing me to enter the marble foyer. "Wait here while I give the doctor a call."

Great. In all likelihood, my lie will be exposed and the guards will be instructed to keep a close eye on me from now on, either due to worry that I'm mentally unstable or concern that I'm a risk to national security. He picks up the phone and dials a number from memory. I can hear the ringing from the handset held loosely against his ear. One, two, three… I have just about given up hope when a deep, slurred voice registers from the other end. "Yes."

"Dr. Aurelius. The Mockingjay is here. She says you're expecting her."

The guard pulls the handset closer so I can't hear the doctor's response, but after just a brief pause the guard answers, "Very well," and hangs up.

"I'll take you to his office," he says to me. We wait in uncomfortable silence for the elevator. Every few seconds, I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I'm sure the curiosity is killing him. When the elevator finally arrives, he holds the door and motions for me to enter first.

Once inside, he clears his throat and says, "I hope it's nothing too serious. I heard about Peeta the other day. It's such a shame."

Such a shame? Like Peeta's some derelict teenager who never lived up to his potential. I want to scream that it's his government, the people he's protecting who have sentenced Peeta to a life of violence and subsequent self resentment, but I bite my tongue and keep my face impassive. Taking my anger out on this guard will accomplish nothing, other than make me their next topic of gossip.

After a few more minutes of even more uncomfortable silence, the elevator doors open and he says, "Go left, it's the last door on the right."

I walk tentatively down the short, dark hallway. Only the nighttime security lights are on, casting an eerie red glow on the polished marble floor and walls. I use the time to collect my thoughts. The doctor seems to be close to Coin so I need to be careful what I say. But, I also need to find out how he stopped Peeta's attack. I'm not leaving until he tells me that. I finally have a glimpse of how I can make everything right and I'm not about to lose sight of that.

I stop at an engraved stone placard that reads, "Dr. Montgomery Aurelius," and lightly knock on the door.

It opens immediately, and a very haggard Dr. Aurelius peers out at me. His white coat hangs limply on his frame that seems to have grown even more fragile over the past 12 hours. His eyes are rimmed in red and the dark bags underneath them have expanded.

"Katniss. I'm glad you came, so I can assess the damage to your arm."

I open my mouth in protest, but he raises his hand to stop me. "Let's start with an x-ray. Follow me."

He walks across the hall, unlocks the door, and motions for me to enter. I do as he wishes, but say, "I just want to ask you a few questions."

"Yes, yes… I know. Will your arm heal normally? Will you ever be able to shoot your bow again? We'll get to _all_ of your questions in just a moment," he says with a stern look. He's cautioning me not to say too much.

I patiently sit through the multiple x-rays he takes and wait while he fiddles with the portable computer in the dim light cast by all the equipment. Finally, he seems pleased with the images and addresses me again. "Let's review these in another room. I've been meaning to sterilize some equipment and I'd like to get that started."

I follow him to yet another room. This one is small and even darker than the previous one since it only has one piece of equipment emanating light.

He opens the portable computer and uses the light from the display to find two chairs. He shoves one in my direction takes the other for himself.

"Please have a seat," he says while pushing buttons on the massive, rectangular machine on the counter. I'm shocked by the loud swishing sounds that escape from it once he pulls a large lever on the side.

He rolls his chair closer to me so that we are side-by-side, our arms touching. I try to move away, but he grabs my wrist.

"Now that we have the autoclave going, let's take a look at your images" he says loudly into my ear. With all the noise from the machine, I can barely hear him even though he's so close. Which means that Coin won't be able to hear our conversation at all.

"Let me just adjust the contrast a bit so you can see this better," he says, decreasing the amount of light radiating from his computer. We're in practical darkness now, which means Coin won't be able to see us, either. So, he's just as worried about the governmental eavesdropping and spying as we've been.

"That's better huh?" he says and looks at me for the first time since we've entered this room.

"What answers do you have?" I ask, getting to the heart of the matter.

He sighs. "First, you have a hairline fracture of your radius, which I need to cast for you tonight."

"You know that's not why I'm here."

He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I know. But I'm not sure where I should begin."

"What did you whisper in his ear in the studio?"

"Nightlock."

I shake my head slightly in disbelief—nightlock has become the symbol of our lives. "Will he respond to that no matter who says it?"

"Yes. It's the safe word. We established it to stop him in the event he tried to hurt anyone during one of his treatments."

I cringe at the word 'treatments'. Torture is more like it. Torture aimed at ruining both of us for the rest of our lives. I'm surprised Snow would even allow a safe word—that's just a weakness, a chink in the armor that could compromise his plan of absolutely destroying us.

"Do you know what sets off his attacks?" I ask.

"During his treatments, he responded most strongly to a flashing light, which is what we saw during the photo shoot. He was also programmed to react to key words, but he never took to those as well."

That explains why he reacted during the thunderstorm—the flash of lightening must have pushed him over the edge. Something about all this doesn't seem right, though.

"How do you know about his treatments? That was Snow. You were in District 13 at the time."

The doctor's eyes become even darker. "I'm not exactly what I seem, Katniss. My life has been built on lies and deceit."

"You were helping Snow?" I ask in shock.

He nods slowly.

"Did Coin know? Does she know?"

"No. Anyone who knew was killed during the rebellion."

"How could you do that to us? And then pretend you were trying to help us in 13!" My voice is rising.

"Why does anyone do these kinds of things? Promises of money, power. I am not proud of what I've done. You two didn't deserve any of it. That's why I'm trying to make things right now."

My anger with this man is reaching epic proportions. I can feel the fury leaking out of my pores. "Make things right?! By exposing him to graphic and demented holograms every night? By shocking him with an electric current in the studio until he's just a mumbling shell of himself?!"

He places his hand on my arm, but I furiously shake it off.

"I'm sorry. I… I didn't know the holograms were still active. The batteries in the transducers should have died by now. We were planning on them lasting six months and they were placed when Peeta was transferred to 13. They were just a security measure. In case the rebels won, Snow wanted to make sure the two of you were never happy. He hated you. But you know that."

"So Coin is completely innocent?"

"No," he says with a guttural laugh. "She's far from innocent. In fact, I think she's much more dangerous than Snow ever was. But with regard to the holograms, yes. She doesn't know about them."

"So even after all that with Snow, you were still willing to torment us under Coin's directives?" I ask contemptuously.

He runs his fingers through his thinning hair. "I didn't feel like I had a choice. She threatened me. Like she did you. That's how she functions. That's how she gets her way. She's manipulative—you know that." He sighs again and puts his glasses back on.

So my assumption that she had blackmailed everyone involved in the promotion of the 76th Hunger Games seems to be correct.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I can't live with the guilt, the shame, any longer. I see how my actions are ruining your lives."

I have a hard time believing he's now developed some sense of moral fortitude. I'm guessing it's because there are no longer promises of money and power, but rather threats of death. Maybe he's realized that his life is turning into something very similar to ours—fear dictating every action that he takes.

"Coin is dangerous, Katniss. I think your role in our country's future has only just begun. You need to be strong. And I know you need Peeta by your side for that. The two of you will save this country," he says with a renewed sense of urgency.

His words take me by surprise. "No," I say forcefully. "I'm done after this promotion. She's agreed to leave me alone once I finish this. Peeta and I will go back to District 12 and try to heal from all of this. From what you've done to us," I say with disdain.

"There are many lives at stake. Many more than in the revolution. We're talking millions. I know you'll do the right thing when the time comes. You, unlike me, have a solid foundation built on honesty and strong ethics, always allowing compassion to direct your actions."

I dismiss his words with a roll of my eyes. "How do you know her plan?"

He laughs. "I don't know her master plan. I'm filled in on the areas where she needs me. Developing strategies for brainwashing or physically or mentally torturing war prisoners..."

I stare at him, my eyes wide.

"Yes Katniss. That is our future with Coin."

I become quiet and let him cast my arm while I try to comprehend everything he's told me. The good points are I can stop Peeta's attacks and the holograms won't last forever. We don't have to be afraid anymore. I smile as that realization sinks in. Unfortunately, the bad points are Coin is as dangerous as I suspected and she's developing a plan that puts the lives of millions at risk. Suddenly, my earlier conversation with Gale seems to have greater implications than I thought.

"Okay, you're all set," Dr. Aurelius says, interrupting my reflection. "Leave this on for four weeks. After that, all you do is turn this fastener here," he says pointing to a lever at the top. "The cast will open slightly and you'll be able to slide your arm out."

"Sure," I say, not really listening to him.

He continues. "I truly am sorry for all the damage I've caused. I don't expect your forgiveness, but please don't allow what's happened prevent you from doing what's right in the future. Your most important role is yet to come."

And with that, he ushers me out of the room. I can't help but feel like it's a final farewell of sorts.

* * *

**A/N: I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm leaving for a two-week vacation tomorrow. I wasn't planning on writing while I'm gone, but if enough people show interest (via reviews, favorites, or follows), I could protentially be persuaded to post a chapter or two while I'm away. If not, I'll be active again starting 8/20. As always, thanks for reading my story! **


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks so much for the positive reviews-it really means a lot! Here's another chapter to tide you over until I'm back from vacation. I hope you enjoy it! **

* * *

The next morning I head to the President's mansion a little early. I hadn't fallen back asleep the night before with all the new information from Dr. Aurelius running through my mind, especially the most important piece—Peeta can come back. With everything going on right now, it's refreshing to have one positive thing finally happen to us.

When I walk through the studio door I see the crew quietly erecting the green screen and placing video cameras in various locations throughout the room. A very animated Coin is in the corner, talking to a guard in hushed whispers. I look to the glass room, expecting to see Dr. Aurelius, but it's empty.

"Well find him!" Coin's loud command breaks the silence of the room. I turn in her direction, as she comes marching towards me.

"Where's Peeta?" she asks.

"I haven't seen him since he tried to kill me," I say coolly. "What's the plan for today?" The sooner we start, the sooner I can finish and find Peeta to tell him the great news.

"Another video."

I cringe. This may take longer than I thought.

"Yes, exactly," Coin says, sensing my concern. "That's why we need Peeta. So you have some motivation to be convincing."

"I'll be fine," I say through gritted teeth, although I doubt it myself.

Coin's eyes dart around the room, as though she's looking for someone. I get the distinct sense that she is distracted by something important this morning. My mind wanders as I wait for direction from her. Maybe she knows about the Nationalists? Or maybe the Capitol people are starting to get angry with how she's treating them?

Finally her eyes lock on mine again and she says, "Let's just give it a try." I take a deep breath as she turns on her heel and begins striding to the glass room.

After changing into my Mockingjay suit, one of the crew drapes and pins black fabric over my arm, trying to disguise the bright white plastic cast.

Once I've read the script and Renel has placed me in the correct spot for the first take, it's time to begin. I draw a deep breath and start reading the lines illuminated on the teleprompter. But after just a few moments, Coin's voice echoes through the room.

"Cut! Not acceptable Katniss. We have a deal. Either you do this to my satisfaction or there will be consequences," she hisses.

Renel approaches me and adjusts the microphone. He smooths my hair, fiddles with the black fabric over my cast, and whispers, "Pretend you're sending her to the Games, Katniss. Pretend it's her and Snow and all the other people who have hurt you."

Slowly, I move my eyes up to meet his. I can see the anguish there. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to see me or Peeta tortured anymore. He's trying to help the best he can. I nod and take another deep breath, slowly releasing it as I imagine Coin in the arena. An involuntary smile spreads across my face as I picture myself in there with her. I have no doubt who would win that match up and the thought fills me with immense joy and satisfaction.

Renel yells "Action," and I start reading again. I do as he recommended and know it's working by the grin on his face. But about half way through my speech, I'm distracted by the guard from earlier storming into the studio and going straight to the glass room.

I continue reading, but watch his encounter with Coin. Whatever he tells her causes her tense mouth to dip into a frown. She places her fingertips to her temples and appears to be deep in thought. My gaze moves back to Renel who is also watching Coin. I stop reading because it's obvious no one is paying attention to me anymore.

The silence pulls Coin out of her contemplation. "We're done for the day. Katniss, I'll expect Peeta here tomorrow or our agreement is void," she says distractedly before rushing out of the studio.

Those of us remaining in the room stare blankly at each other. What just happened? Renel clears his throat and tells the crew to pack up for the day, making it clear there will be no gossiping about what could have caused Coin's behavior. Before heading out, I change into normal clothes and say goodbye to Renel.

Ten minutes later, I'm walking through the Capitol trying to remember where Gale said the Nationalists' headquarters is. I inwardly chastise myself for not paying closer attention to him when he was talking. I've been so caught up in my own drama I haven't really been supporting him with what he's doing. And now it's coming back to hurt me when I need to find Peeta.

I know it's in the basement of a bar and it must not be far since Gale walks there every day. How many bars can there be close to here? After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, I stop a middle-aged couple along the sidewalk and ask them for directions to the nearest bar.

Recognition is immediate. They stare agape, but I'm not sure what emotion flits across their faces. Fear? Disdain? Shock that the Mockingjay is looking to drink mid-morning? It doesn't seem to be a positive emotion, which makes me briefly think about the promotion that will be coming out soon. I'm sure I won't be able to show my face here again after that. And I don't blame them. If I were in their shoes, I'd hate me after that, too. I have to remind myself that we're going to stop the games. Eventually, they'll understand everything.

After an uncomfortable beat, the man points to the left and says there's one two streets over.

"Are there any others close by?"

He looks confused, but answers, "There's another one about a half mile from here, back towards the river."

I thank them and feel confident the one two streets over is where I'll find Peeta. I pick up my pace, excited to see him again and share my news.

The bar is in the middle of the block, between a haberdashery and a market. Overall this block experienced minimal damage from the revolution, the only signs being a few craters littered throughout the sidewalk and the occasional boarded up window, indicating shrapnel likely found its way here. The bar itself is fairly non-descript with a simple black awning. The windows are clean with stenciled block letters reading "Capitol Lounge." Beneath that are the words "Fine Food & Drink."

Not surprisingly, the door is locked since it's not even noon yet. I peer through the window and see a middle-aged man with navy blue hair and a tight white t-shirt mopping the floor. He's got two plain gold hoop earrings in his right ear and an apron wrapped around his thin waist, partially covering his burgundy and gray striped pants. I rap on the glass, causing him to look up from his work with a scowl. But the scowl is immediately replaced by a large grin when he seems to recognize me. He scurries over to the door and opens it for me.

"It's such an honor to meet you," he gushes. "I'm Tallis. Gale mentioned you might be stopping by. Can I get you something to drink before you head downstairs? Unfortunately we don't have much to offer since the rebellion, but I'd be happy to get you the best we have."

"Uh, no. I'm fine," I say. Why did Gale think I'd come here? He doesn't know anything about my meeting with Dr. Aurelius last night. Unless he thinks I'm going to offer to help the Nationalists like he requested.

The man leads me to the back of the room, through a thick wood door and down a dark set of stairs. At the bottom, we pass through another door and then I hear raised voices. It sounds like a heated discussion is taking place. The man points down the hallway. "At the end of the hall, turn right and go through the stockroom to their meeting room."

I nod and thank him for his help before following his directions. I listen intently to the discussion as I slowly approach the group.

"I told you we needed to set up surveillance sooner!" a recognizable voice says. It's Gale, and he's angry.

"It was too risky, you know that," a female voice admonishes. Maybe Paylor?

"Yeah and now he's dead! We'll never find out what he knew!" It sounds like a fist slams onto the table.

"We'll get enough incriminating evidence through other means," a more controlled voice says. My knees go weak at the sound. It's Peeta.

"The boy's right. We have enough moles in there now that it's only a matter of time before the pieces start fitting together." It's Haymitch and surprisingly, he sounds sober despite being in a bar.

"I'm not backing down on this. We need surveillance. We have to set up a camera in Coin's office! Back me up Beetee."

I hear Beetee's soft voice reply, "Yes, I agree. Even if we gather information through other means, we need proof. To defeat her, we're going to have to convince the courts. Hearsay isn't going to cut it."

Suddenly, multiple people start talking at once. It sounds like this has been an ongoing debate with strong opinions on both sides.

Now that I'm only a few feet from the threshold of their meeting room, I feel uncomfortable. Like I'm eavesdropping, even though they've asked me to be part of the group. I stand behind a stack of boxes and glance around the edge to watch the meeting in progress. Gale is on the far side of the table so I can see his face. It's contorted in anger. Paylor is next to him at the head of the table with Haymitch opposite her. Plutarch is next to Gale and Beetee is next to Plutarch. Two other people I don't know round out their side of the table. The only form I recognize on the close side of the table is Peeta's broad back and curly blond hair.

I bite my lip. I want to rush to his side and tell him the good news, but now is definitely not an appropriate time with everyone talking over each other.

"Enough!" Paylor shouts above the commotion, silencing everyone. "We're not going to accomplish anything by arguing with each other. Beetee and Gale, put together a proposal that we can consider. Include how you intend on planting the bug and how you'll mitigate the inherent risks associated with it. Any questions?"

"No. That seems fair," Gale responds with a smug smile.

"Good. Let's take a break. Meet back here in five minutes," she says addressing the group.

My eyes immediately move to Peeta. He stands and stretches his arms above his head. Turning to the guy on this left and says something that makes him laugh. Peeta joins in and my body aches at the sound. I didn't realize how much I've missed Peeta's voice, his laugh, the past two days.

My eyes continue scanning the room until I'm back to Gale again. He's still seated next to Paylor and they're deep in conversation. She reaches over and touches his shoulder lightly as she talks. He glances downward at her touch but doesn't pull away. I frown. How long has this been going on? I remember back to our first day here and how she treated him like a close friend. Did something develop between them during the rebellion? Have they rekindled whatever they had since we've been back here? That thought makes my stomach churn.

Hearing someone clear his throat, I'm brought out of my thoughts. I focus back on Gale and find that he's staring straight at me. I feel my face reddening and try to regain my composure. He seems to finally realize that Paylor's touching him and quickly pulls his shoulder away, a slight blush appearing on his face. That's a first—Gale's not one to get embarrassed easily. He motions me over with his hand.

I take one step into the room, and all eyes turn to me, shock apparent on the faces. I smile shyly as Gale pulls a chair to the table between him and Paylor.

"You can have this seat, Katniss," he says welcoming me to the group.

He clearly doesn't know why I'm here. He must think I've changed my mind after our conversation yesterday. I suddenly feel terrible. I should've talked to Gale first. He's going to be crushed when he finds out the truth.

I take the chair he offered and nod to the group. Peeta stares at me, eyes wide. He looks scared. This really was a bad idea. I need to somehow get alone with Peeta to tell him what I learned. But there's no way he's going to allow that. I'm surprised he doesn't get up and leave right now. I smile at him trying to ease his worry, but the fear on his face doesn't recede.

Paylor breaks the tension by resuming the meeting. "Katniss, thank you for coming. I can't tell you how pleased each and every one of us is with your willingness to take an active role in the current political situation."

I bite my lip again. I'm not taking a role. I just want to get Peeta back. Should I say something? I glance around the group and the expectation on their faces is too much. I can't let them down.

I decide to avoid the topic altogether and get some answers for myself. "I heard you say someone is dead. Who?"

"Dr. Aurelius. Why?"

The blood drains from my head and settles like a bag of bricks in my stomach. My chest constricts as I try to deal with the shock of what Paylor just said. Coin must have found out about our conversation and had him killed. What does that mean for me? And Peeta and Gale and my mother? We'll be next. We need to get out of here now.

"H—he was killed?" I ask quietly.

"No, he committed suicide," she says pointedly.

My mouth drops at the unexpected piece of information. That certainly explains Coin's bizarre behavior this morning. The guard must have told her that her prized torturer decided he couldn't take it anymore. Now she's going to have to find someone else who is willing to do her dirty work.

Paylor continues, "He was found this morning in his office with a syringe containing trace amounts of a barbiturate. It happened sometime last night… maybe around midnight or so."

"More like 3 AM," I mumble.

She cocks her head to the side and stares at my quizzically. "And how do you know that?"

"I visited him last night." I hold up my cast. "To get my arm treated." Peeta's jaw clenches when he sees the cast and I immediately regret my words. I quickly lower my arm below the table again.

"Did he seem distraught?"

"No… well maybe a little."

"In what way?" Gale asks.

"He… he…" I pause. How much to do I want to tell this group? I trust Gale, Peeta, and Haymitch, but that's about it.

"We're all on your side, sweetheart," Haymitch says from across the table, accurately reading my hesitation. "Spill it."

"I—I," I look to Peeta as I continue. "I went to see him because he told me he had answers… for me and Peeta." A glimmer of hope appears in Peeta's eyes. I smile and continue. "He told me about the hijacking and holograms in Peeta's house. He told me about his triggers and gave me the safe word."

"Safe word?" Peeta rolls the term around on his tongue like he can't quite believe it.

"What do you mean safe word?" Gale spits out, his anger rising again.

"Hold on, we're getting ahead of ourselves," Beetee says quietly from the corner. "How did he know about the hijacking and other torturing that was done under Snow?"

"He indicated he was a spy." This answer elicits whistles and sharp intakes of breath from around the table.

"But then he worked for Coin after Snow was killed?"

"Yeah. My impression was that he just wanted to get ahead and would do whatever it took to do that. He obviously didn't care about other people too much," I say motioning to Peeta.

"And he told you all of this?" Beetee says.

I nod. "He seemed scared. He mentioned that Coin is more dangerous than Snow, so maybe he figured his time was limited and wanted to make amends?"

"What else did he tell you?" Paylor asks.

I shrug. "A few other things. Nothing specific though. He said millions of lives were at risk and…" I stop myself mid-sentence, realizing I don't want to tell them that he thought my biggest role was yet to come because they might hold me to that.

"And what?" Gale asks, nudging my arm with his.

"A—And he was being used to develop strategies for brainwashing and torturing war prisoners." I'm thankful I remember that part of our discussion, so I can avoid the topic of me being involved.

Gale looks at me with admiration. "You're a member of our team for not even five minutes and you've already provided invaluable intel!" He squeezes my forearm and gently nudges my foot with his own.

I roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to derail the conversation, but Katniss mentioned a safe word for me. What did you mean by that?" Peeta asks, hope radiating around him like coal dust around the mine back in District 12.

I fix my eyes on his. "Nightlock. Anyone who says that can stop one of your attacks. You don't have to be worried anymore, Peeta."

"Really?" he whispers, barely audible. I'm sure he can't believe that his torment can be stopped with one simple word.

I feel Gale shift his position next to me. "Well obviously, this would need to be tested before we can trust him," he says huffily, his attitude a complete reversal from mere seconds ago.

"Of course, of course," Peeta mumbles, lost in his own thoughts. I see the glint in his eyes and the smile playing on his lips. He's already imagining our lives together without the constant risk of killing me. I return his shy smile.

I can barely concentrate on the rest of the meeting. Peeta and I keep stealing glances at each other, both excited to test the safe word.

About an hour later, Paylor finally adjourns the group. Gale leans into me.

"So, I guess you and Peeta are officially a couple now?"

I'm taken aback by the contempt in his voice. "I—I don't know, Gale. I'm just happy that he won't try to kill me anymore."

He shrugs. "Maybe."

"Do you want to help me test it so you know for sure?"

He glares at Peeta, but nods to me. "I'll be back at the Training Center around 5. Perhaps you two can manage to stay apart until then."

"You don't have to be like this Gale," I say with more intensity than I intended.

He pushes away from the table forcefully, causing his chair to fall to the floor as he stands. I sigh and wonder if my troubles are just beginning.


	16. Chapter 15

Peeta was watching us and once Gale leaves the room, he comes to my side. Touching my shoulder tentatively, he says, "Thank you, Katniss."

"For what?"

"For believing we would find a way around this. I had given up … was planning on moving to District 4. I didn't think I'd ever see you again." His eyes reflect a very different emotion now than when I first arrived here. Anxiety and fear have been replaced by hope and excitement.

"That's not like you. You're usually the optimistic one," I say with a smile.

His arm wraps around my shoulder. "So, how are we going to test this?"

"Gale said he'll be back at the Training Center tonight at 5. Maybe we should wait for him just to make sure everything goes okay?" I swallow hard, not wanting him to see my nerves. In my heart, I believe it will work, but I can't forget about the last time Peeta attacked me. I almost killed him—would have if Dr. Aurelius hadn't distracted me. And he would have killed me if Dr. Aurelius hadn't intervened.

"Well, I had planned a lively evening of helping Tallis count cocktail napkins and coasters, but that can probably wait until tomorrow," he grins. His easy smile almost calms my nerves, but the hard line of his jaw and tense arm give away his uneasiness, too. We both know how badly this could end if the safe word doesn't work.

I take a deep breath and try to focus on something else—to think beyond the test. "Will you stay at the Training Center if all goes well?" I ask shyly.

Wrapping his other arm around me, he says, "That could probably be arranged."

I lean into him, encircling his waist with my arms, but soon notice the handful of people remaining in the room watching us. I quickly release my grip and back away, my face burning.

Peeta catches my blushing. "Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you."

"N-no, it's fine…" I say.

"Well this ought to be fun… nothing like bringing teenage love triangles to major political movements aimed at impeaching the President," Haymitch mutters under his breath as he walks past us.

I cringe at his words.

"Don't worry. He's just grumpy because he hasn't had anything to drink in over a week now," Peeta says, lacing his fingers through mine.

At precisely 5 PM, both Gale and Peeta walk into the common room on the 12th floor of the Training Center. Did they actually walk here together? Given the tension apparent between them, I think that's doubtful. More likely, Peeta waited outside for Gale, afraid to be alone with me for even a minute until we've proven the safe word works.

"So how are we going to set him off?" Gale asks without emotion.

I point to a small black box on the table next to me. "Renel let me borrow a strobe light this afternoon. That should probably do the trick."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Turn it on," he says gruffly.

"Are you ready Peeta?" I ask with a little more tenderness.

He walks to the rear of the room, as far as he can get from me, and then nods.

Gale turns off the overhead light. A couple seconds later, I feel him at my side. I flip the switch on the machine, and the room is immediately filled with rapid flashes of light. I lift my hand to my face and it appears to move in slow motion. I switch my gaze to Peeta. He's running in slow motion right towards me as Gale watches with his arms folded over his chest, his lips pursed.

"Nightlock! Nightlock, nightlock, nightlock!" I scream at the top of my lungs when Peeta's only a few steps away. It's like magic. He stops dead in his tracks. I ease myself around Gale to turn on the overhead light and then study Peeta's face. He looks tired and confused, but not angry or fixated on killing me. I turn off the strobe light as I continue to watch him.

"How do you feel?" I ask slowly.

"Worn out. Emotionally drained." He walks to the couch and sits down, closing his eyes. I take a seat next to him and squeeze his hand gently.

"Well good for you two. Now you can have a long and happy life together." Gale turns on his heel and stalks out of the room without further comment.

"Gale, please…" I yell after him, but I hear the sound of the elevator closing and know that he's already gone.

I stare at the door and wonder what will happen to us.

"Are you alright?" Peeta has opened his eyes and is watching me intently.

I nod.

"You know the ball is in your court. I want to be with you, but only if that's what you want. If you want Gale, I understand. I know he would be thrilled with that outcome," he adds softly.

So this is it. Right now I have to declare who I choose? And for what? For the rest of my life? I'm too young for that. I've never wanted to get married. But I do want to keep Peeta close to me. That must count for something.

"You don't have to decide right now," he says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "But soon. You know we can't go on like this."

I nod, wary of what he's asking me to do. He wants me to make a commitment to him. A commitment I'm not sure I can uphold.

Luckily, the arrival of dinner saves me from further discussion on this uncomfortable topic. We thank the guard who brought the food and then sit across from each other at the table, which now seems too large. The lentil and okra soup is bland and the bread is stale, but nonetheless, this is the best meal I've ever had here. Sitting across from Peeta, knowing that our lives aren't in immediate danger and that I can stop his attacks is completely liberating. For the first time in a year, I feel like I'm almost in control of my life. All I need to do is finish the promotion and stop the Games and then I'm free… we're free to do whatever we want.

Peeta avoids the larger, looming issue between us and focuses on small talk throughout dinner. But we can only talk about the food, the weather, and the state of the Capitol for so long. Eventually, we sit quietly as we finish our soup. Every few minutes, I catch him watching me, an overjoyed smile on his face. I can't help but smile back.

When it's time to retire for the evening, Peeta walks me to my room and fidgets at the threshold.

"Well, goodnight," he says, placing a light kiss on my cheek.

"Good night," I reply.

He shuffles his feet. "I should probably be getting to bed."

"Yes. We have an early appointment with Coin."

"Okay, I'll be going then," he says, but makes no move to leave.

I smile. "Are you waiting for an invitation to come in?"

"Kind of," he admits with his charming grin.

I reach for his hand and pull him into my bedroom. "I think it's about time we both got a good night's sleep."

He nuzzles my neck. "Yes, a full night of sleep would be nice." His hand moves up my back to the base of my neck. I gaze at him expectantly.

"Can I try something?" he asks.

My breath catches in my throat because I know exactly what he wants to try.

Not waiting for an answer, he lowers his mouth to mine. Our lips meet tentatively and begin a slow, sensual dance.

I look into his eyes and see nothing but my Peeta—the boy with the bread—so I pull his body closer and deepen our kiss. My head becomes light, my heart begins racing. The slight tingling sensation that began in my lips has now spread throughout my body, settling deep in my belly.

He walks us backwards until my legs touch the bed. I sit on the edge and grab the front of his shirt to pull him down with me. We slide up so our bodies are completely on the mattress lying next to each other, our lips never parting.

"You remember the safe word, right?" he asks between kisses. He's still worried that kissing is what set him off in the thunderstorm, not the lightening.

"You're fine," I whisper, trailing my fingers across his chest.

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls my body tight to his.

I'm vaguely aware of the enormity of what we're doing. Lying in bed together has always been about sleep for us. Not this. I hesitate for a moment, not sure what message this sends him.

"Are you okay," he asks, sensing my hesitation.

He's giving me an out. I can tell him I'm not ready for this. We can just curl up in each other's arms like we used to do. But that's not what I want. After thinking I lost Peeta again, I want to be close to him. I want to make him happy and have him make me happy. I enjoy kissing Peeta and I can't think of any reason we shouldn't be doing this. Except Gale. Okay, there's that one, tiny reason.

"I'm fine," I answer, pushing Gale out of my thoughts.

Peeta brushes light kisses along my ear, down my jaw, and finally to my lips again. I curl my fingers in his soft hair and enjoy his body next to mine. His hands slowly move down my shoulders, my back, and to where my shirt meets my pants. He gently tugs on my shirt, freeing it from the waistband. His unexpected action causes me to gasp.

"Too much?" he asks, pulling his hands from my body.

I shake my head no, not trusting my voice. He smiles and slowly inches my shirt upward. His fingers slide off the fabric and glide over my sensitized skin. The tingling in my belly is replaced by a deep and scorching heat that follows the movement of his fingers.

"And another thing Catnip!" I'm immediately confused by the booming voice. I open my eyes to find Peeta staring at me, bewilderment on his face, too. Before we can act, the door to my room flies open and Gale is standing there red-faced and disheveled.

"Oh, hell! I should have known you two would hop into bed the moment I left!"

I jump up and meet Gale at the doorway. "Gale, you're drunk. Let's talk about this in the morning."

"What's there to talk about?! You were always going to choose him. I never stood a chance," he slurs.

"Gale, now is not the time nor the place for this discussion."

"Does he know that you wanted to kiss me the other night? Maybe pretty boy here needs to know what kind of girl he's getting!"

I slap him across the face so hard my hand stings. Peeta races to my side, as Gale reaches up to his cheek and starts laughing.

"Gale, I think you should leave," Peeta says menacingly. I'm shocked by the intensity of Peeta's glare. That's not something I've ever seen before.

"Yeah, yeah… she's all yours pretty boy." He turns and stumbles through the common room.

I move back to the bed and massage my stinging hand.

"Do you need ice for that?" Peeta is at my side, watching me closely.

"No, I'll be fine."

He climbs onto the bed and sits cross-legged beside me. He lays his hand on my knee, but says nothing.

I reflect on what just happened and my anger towards Gale increases. First of all, he should have knocked before entering my room. And, secondly, why would he tell Peeta I was thinking about kissing him? That was under completely different circumstances. And what was he insinuating about me? I clench my fists as I it dawns on me exactly what his meaning was.

"Don't be too hard on him, Katniss," he says quietly.

I give him a look that lets him know exactly how angry I am with Gale.

"One thing he had going for him was my instability. In his mind, we could never be together because of my attacks. But that was taken away from him today. He's hurting."

"That doesn't give him any right to treat me like that!"

"No, but it is understandable."

I furrow my eyebrows and glare at him. Why does he always give people the benefit of the doubt?

"It's okay, Katniss."

"What's okay, Peeta?" I yell at him.

"If you kissed Gale the other night."

"I didn't kiss him," I grumble. Of course that was because he stopped it, not me.

Peeta holds up his hands in surrender. "Look, Katniss. Our lives have been a mess for years now. It's hard to hold either of us responsible for what we've done the past few months. I mean, I've tried to kill you multiple times and yet you're still here with me."

"That wasn't your fault."

"But, it's not your fault if something happened between you and Gale. Before tonight, I had very little hope that anything could develop between us. It made more sense for you to be with Gale. I know you love us both."

I turn my head unable to meet his probing gaze.

"I feel like we're finally in a place where we can think about the future. We need to agree on what we want and then be held accountable for what we do. If you commit to a relationship with me and then go around kissing other guys, we're going to have a huge problem," he says with chuckle. He lightly places his hand on my chin and turns my face towards him. He's smiling, trying to lighten the mood.

He's clearly not mad at me, but my mood is still sour. Perhaps it's because I agree with Gale. What kind of girl am I? I have these two guys in my life who I don't want to upset, but the status quo is just going to hurt us all. I think back to all the times I've thought I lost Peeta and the pain is so powerful, so all consuming, that I know I can't go through it again. Peeta and I need each other.

Is that the case with Gale? Maybe in the past. But for the last year, Gale and I have tolerated each other with small periods of friendship among long bouts of fighting. I gulp as realization hits. I know he'll do fine without me and I'll do fine without him… as long as I have Peeta by my side.

I sigh quietly, knowing I need to accept this revelation.

"I love you, Katniss," Peeta whispers. "I have since the day I met you. I had some confusion for a while with the hijacking, but I remember so much of it clearly now. Your beautiful voice, your courage to take Prim's place in the reaping, the sacrifices you made to keep me alive in the arena. Both arenas. I… I… want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."

The old Peeta is back. The Peeta who makes me uncomfortable by openly declaring his love for me. Only this time, it doesn't make me uncomfortable. It makes me pleased. After everything we've been through, it's remarkable that getting back to where our relationship was over a year ago could bring so much pleasure. It just took death, torture, and war to make me realize what I need.

"You make me very happy every day," I reply lamely when I know all he wants to hear is those three little words.

"Well, good, then I'm doing my job."

We lie back in bed and I snuggle into his arms. When his breathing becomes slow and regular, I finally garner the nerves to tell him how I feel. "I choose you, Peeta. I can't live without you."

A contented murmur escapes his lips, although I'm not sure if he really heard what I said or not. I move closer to him and lightly kiss his forehead before falling into the most restful sleep I've had in years.


	17. Chapter 16A

The next morning, I awake fully-refreshed to find Peeta watching me, his lips curled into a content smile.

"What?" I ask, self-consciously.

"I had the most wonderful dream last night."

I turn on my side so I'm facing him. "What was it?"

"You said that you chose me and couldn't imagine living without me."

The memory from late last night comes rushing back. Feeling the red creeping up my neck, I roll over to try and hide it from him.

"Hey, don't roll away," he says, pulling me back around so I'm facing him again. "Why are you blushing?"

I cover my face with my hands and whisper, "That might not have been a dream."

His body tenses next to me. "Really?"

I nod, and he pulls my hands from my face. "Why are you embarrassed? This is great," he says quietly, leaning up on his elbow next to me. "Are you having second thoughts now, is that the problem?"

"No, no, I'm sure," I say with a gulp. After a full night of sleep, I still believe in my decision. "It's just… well… you know me and emotions," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Hmm… we're going to have to work on that." He kisses the back of my hand and then my forehead. "Do you have any clue how happy I am right now?"

From his beaming smile and sparkling eyes, I have a pretty good idea. And if I'm honest with myself, now that the embarrassment is wearing off, I feel quite good about things, too. There's something to be said about making a decision and moving forward with it.

"I'm happy, too," I say quietly. He wraps his arms around me, and I can feel his smile grow even larger against the top of my head.

An hour later, we walk into the studio again, Peeta's fingers woven between mine this time. Coin immediately spots us and heads our way. She glances down at our intertwined hands and a smirk plays across her lips. When she's standing in front of us, she says, "Glad you could make it today, Peeta."

He nods in response and releases my hand before walking to the glass room with her. I follow their movement with my eyes, remembering everything that has happened in that room. I'm nervous about what today could bring, but once they're settled, I reluctantly change into the Mockingjay suit and take my place before the camera.

We're taping the scene from yesterday, so I feel well prepared. I follow Renel's recommendations about imagining I'm sending Coin to the Games, and we finish in two takes without comment from Coin or zapping of Peeta. All in all, I'd call it a successful session.

After I change out of the suit, I find Peeta and Coin talking. Stepping beside Peeta, I hear the end of their conversation.

"Stop by this evening and I'll give them to you," she says.

"Thank you, President Coin," Peeta says and then turns to me. Taking my hand, he leads me out of the studio.

"What was that about?" I ask.

"You're done. She has all the footage she needs, so we're free to go. She's going to give us the train tickets tonight."

"Oh, okay," I reply, knowing that is not our plan at all. After leaving the mansion, we head straight for the roof of the Training Center.

"You don't want to leave, do you?" I ask him, as soon as we pass through the door.

"No. We have to stop the Games. We can't let 24 more children go through that."

I nod in agreement.

"But," he continues, walking towards the wind chimes, "she can't know we're still here. We need to at least go through the motions so she thinks we left."

"Where will we stay?"

"Tallis will probably let us stay with him. He has a spare room in the basement. He was pretty agreeable to me staying there as long as I helped with some of the heavy lifting and cleaning."

We sit down, and I look up to the chimes blowing in the breeze. With a sigh, I say, "How are we going to stop the Games, Peeta?"

"I have no idea. But we don't have to do this on our own. The Nationalists will help—with all of us, we'll come up with something that will work."

"Great, we'll be working side-by-side with Gale," I say with a groan.

"I'm sure he'll be fine once he sobers up. A little embarrassed probably, but the cause is important to him and he's not going to let personal issues get in the way of that."

"Hmmm… you think highly of him," I say, glancing at Peeta out of the corner of my eye.

"Yeah, I guess I do. He's smart and motivated and dedicated. And it's easier to like him now that I know he's no competition," he adds with a grin, settling his arm on my shoulders.

I can't help but smile. Seeing Peeta this happy and carefree confirms that I made the right decision. After everything we've been through, we're so close to our happily ever after. In just a few more weeks we'll be back in District 12 to live a quiet, peaceful life out of the spotlight and out of Panem politics.

"What are you concentrating on so intently?" he asks.

"Our happily ever after," I say without thinking.

He laughs and I immediately wish I would have censored my response.

"I wouldn't have taken you to be such a romantic, Katniss." He slides his hand down my arm and wraps his fingers around mine, pressing our palms together. "What does your happily ever after look like?" he asks, squeezing my hand gently.

"We're back in District 12. I hunt, you bake. Lots of cheese rolls," I add with a grin. "That's it. Simple, easy. No camera crews, no letters from the President, no deranged holograms." After a moment, I say, "What about you?"

"That all sounds good… I could definitely live with that. Of course, some day, years from now, maybe there'd be a little Katniss with pigtails running around."

My mouth falls open, and I gape at him.

"What? I said years from now." He tightens his grip on me as I continue staring. He looks straight ahead at the railing and the city beyond, but by the twitching of his mouth, I can tell he's enjoying my discomfort.

I force myself to take a couple deep breaths, and then I'm able to respond. "I don't think it's right to bring children into this world."

"No, not this world. But the future will be better. It has to be better."

Peeta—always the optimist. I'm not convinced, but I bite my tongue because there's no reason to dampen our moods today.

We spend the rest of the afternoon on the roof talking about our future, the past, and the people we miss most. It's refreshing talking to Peeta because we've shared so many of the same experiences and understand exactly what the other feels. He knows when to be supportive, when to listen, and when to offer an alternative viewpoint. As the sun drops lower on the horizon I allow myself to reflect on how happy I have been today. How this will be every day very soon.

Leaning up on his elbow, Peeta brushes my hair off my neck and says, "The promotion's going to be on in 10 minutes. Do you want to see it?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay. I'm going to watch it, so we know what we're facing… what the people of the Capitol will think of you."

I nod without really hearing him. I know exactly what will be in the promotion and what the people of the Capitol will think. They'll hate me. Hate me as much as everyone in District 12 hated Snow. That thought makes me sick.

I follow Peeta back to the 12th floor and pack my meager belongings while he hovers near the television in the common area, waiting for the promotion. From the bedroom, I hear my voice fill the adjacent room. It sounds fake and staged—surely people realize that, right? After a few moments, curiosity gets the best of me and I join Peeta. We watch it in silence until my image fades to static.

"Is that what you expected?"

"Yes," I respond impassively.

Peeta reaches for the power button on the television when Coin's face suddenly fills the screen with a flashing "Live" rolling across the bottom of the image. He pauses as she starts talking.

"People of Panem. I am as surprised and dismayed as you by the cold, heartless message you just heard from the Mockingjay. Please know that I do not and would never support such an atrocity. Our nation needs to unite and move forward. That can only be accomplished through forgiveness, not retribution as Katniss Everdeen suggests. I officially denounce her message and promise you that we will never have another Hunger Games, as long as I am in office. Furthermore, I am declaring all arenas obsolete and promise their destruction one by one on live television. I will personally be present for the first one—that of the 74th Hunger Games one week from today. Please join me in protest of the Mockinjay's appalling and callous disrespect for the people of our country!"

Peeta and I stare at the screen in shock as it returns to static. Neither of us moves a muscle while we try to make sense of what we just saw.

After what must be minutes, Peeta finally says, "Did you expect that?"

"No," I respond, still in shock. "So, she never really planned on holding another Hunger Games," I say more to myself that Peeta.

"No," he snorts. "She just wanted to make sure no one in Panem treats you like a hero anymore. She wants to solidify herself as the saviour of the country."

Peeta's words roll around in my mind. Maybe this isn't all bad. This is a sure fire way to take us out of the spotlight. And, we don't have to stop another Games. The only negative is people's perception of me. But I don't plan on leaving District 12 once I go back and surely people who have known me my whole life won't believe any of this.

Peeta wraps his arm around my waist and presses his chest to my back. "What are you thinking?"

"As awful as this sounds, it might not be so bad. We can go home tonight. And no one will ever want to film us again," I whisper, turning around to face him.

He nods. "Shall we go get our train tickets then?"

After scribbling a note for Gale to let him know our plans, we grab our bags and start heading over to the President's Mansion one last time. In the elevator, I grip Peeta's shoulder with my good arm, lean into him, and firmly press my lips to his, not pulling away until the doors open on the first floor.

"What was that for?" he asks breathlessly as we step into the lobby of the Training Center.

"I just want to make sure you know how important you are to me. How happy I am that we're going home and starting over..."

With a coy grin, he says, "I'm not sure I totally understand. Maybe you should try explaining that again."

I lace my fingers through his and lead him across the lobby, laughing. "When we get on the train, I'll see if I can explain it a little better."

He raises an eyebrow and starts pulling me through the lobby. "Well, let's get moving then," he says, clearly eager to board the train.

* * *

**A/N: This is not where I planned on ending the chapter, but I felt I needed to include a disclaimer. So, here goes:**

**For hardcore, emotional Peeta fans, you might want to consider stopping here. Katniss chose Peeta, there's no Hunger Games, they can go home and live happily ever after—life's good. Yay! If you fail to heed my warning, please do not hold me responsible for your reaction to what's next. (Of course, if you continue reading, you might find that you eventually see a certain other character in a different light. And you can always check out my other story, Life Goes On, to get your Peeta fix.)**

**For those who want to see how the story actually ends, continue onward. We're only about half way done, so there is a ton of good stuff still to come! **


	18. Chapter 16B

Other than the guard who lets me and Peeta in the front door of the President's mansion, the place is deserted at this hour. We make our way upstairs to Coin's office and rap on the door.

"Come in," she says.

We open the door, and I march to her desk. She tilts her head and watches us shrewdly, probably expecting me to lash out at her over her spot after the promotion. I refuse to give her that satisfaction.

Instead, I say, "I assume you are pleased with the quality of the promotion?"

"Yes, Katniss. Fine work."

"And I assume that means our business arrangement is sound. You will no longer contact me or anyone important to me. We will be allowed to live out of the spotlight without fear of torture, repercussions, or any other atrocities brought on by you or other members of the Cabinet."

"Of course, to the ability that I can control such actions."

I nod in agreement as she reaches into a desk drawer, presumably for the train tickets. I twist around to see Peeta standing by the door. He smiles encouragingly at me. I take a deep breath and face Coin again. Only she's not sitting anymore, she's standing with her legs hip-width apart, arms held out straight, and a small, silver pistol in her hands.

I reflexively reach for my bow, but it's in my bag, which is in Peeta's hands.

"Oh, Katniss. You didn't really think I'd let you two go back to District 12 just like that, did you?"

I step towards her, assessing my ability to disarm her before she fires a shot.

"I would stay where you are if I were you," she says through gritted teeth.

I need to keep her talking while I come up with a plan.

"Why shoot us? You've already effectively discredited me with the people of this country. You get what you want. You're their hero. They're going to turn to you from now on." I stare into her cold, steel eyes, trying to garner some bit of information that will help us get out of this situation.

She says, "And you think I should just let you return to your life back in District 12?"

"Yes. I've done what you asked and we had a deal."

"You really don't understand, do you? Discrediting you was only part of the plan. The other part is destroying you so you're never a threat to me again."

I draw in a quick breath as her words register. She's going to kill me. I may have survived two Hunger Games and the revolution, but it all ends here—right now at Coin's spindly little hands. I try to swallow, but my mouth is too dry. Peeta. I need to think about Peeta. Coin's issue is with me; he can still go home.

"Why don't we let Peeta leave, so you and I can settle this?" I say.

"No, Katniss!" I hear his loud steps coming closer, but Coin moves the gun, causing him to stop at least a few feet behind and to the left of me.

Coin turns her eyes towards me and holds my steadfast gaze. "I think you misunderstood my plan, Katniss," she says wickedly, a cool spark in her eye.

And in that moment, her plan becomes crystal clear. She wants to destroy me emotionally, not physically. That was her plan when she killed Prim. It almost worked then, but Peeta helped me cope. Now, she's heard every word between me and Peeta in my bedroom. She knows I can't live without him. This no longer has anything to do with the people of Panem or what they think of me. This is personal. She hates me, has always hated me, and wants to make me suffer for the rest of my life.

Coin's jaw clenches as she takes aim. I know I have only seconds to act.

When I see her finger twitch on the trigger, I leap to the left putting my body between the gun and Peeta. Suddenly time is moving in slow motion. I see the flash of light erupt from the muzzle of the pistol. My body is arching through the air as I hear a cacophony of sounds—Peeta yells at me, the blast of the gun finally sounds, and I scream at Coin. What seems like minutes later, even though it could only be a fraction of second, my body lands with a thump on the hard floor.


	19. Chapter 17

I don't feel pain. I quickly scan my body, looking for blood, but don't see any. In fact, everything seems to be fully intact. Turning to my right, I see Peeta on the ground next to me. I crawl to his side, trying to put myself between him and Coin once again. When I reach him, I look up to see if she's taking aim, but the space behind her desk is empty. A back door swings loosely on its hinges.

"Peeta, she left. Let's go. We've got to get out of here." I sit up on my knees and grab his shirt. "Come on!"

But he doesn't move. His brilliant blue eyes stare at me unblinking. Panic courses through my veins and clenches my heart.

"Peeta! Talk to me, Peeta!" I reach down and touch his face—it's cold and clammy. I move my hand to his fingers and squeeze, but he provides no resistance. "Peeta, don't do this to me!" I slam my fist on his chest as hard as I can. "Don't do this to me!"

And then I see the pool of crimson spreading from beneath his chest. "No, no… this can't be happening…"

I grasp his shirt and pull it up over his chest. There on the right side between two ribs is a small, perfectly round wound. It looks innocuous. No blood, no raw flesh.

"Peeta, you're fine," I whisper. "It's just a small hole. We'll get you to a doctor and you'll be as good as new in no time." My voice begins to waver as the pool of blood expands.

I pound on his chest again, this time with both hands, ignoring the pain that shoots up my broken arm. "No! This isn't the plan, Peeta! We deserve happily ever after! Don't do this to me! I need you!"

Suddenly, I'm pulled off my feet by strong arms. Tears start streaming down my cheeks as another figure bends over Peeta. Inserting a needle into his arm, she pushes a yellow fluid into the vein. Then she leans over his still body and begins pressing on his chest rhythmically.

My restrainer lets go and I kneel by Peeta's head again. I touch his face. It's warmer. "Peeta, talk to me!"

His eyelids flutter.

"Peeta! I'm here. You're going to be fine," I say.

"Katniss," he garbles, barely audible.

"Shhh… you're fine. You're going to be fine." My tears fall onto his face and roll down his pale cheeks. I wipe them away with my fingertips.

My restrainer kneels on the other side of Peeta and I finally get a good look at him. It's Gale. He grabs Peeta's hand. "Hey man, this is nothing. You're going to pull through. Just stay with us." I see the tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.

Peeta's empty gaze moves towards Gale. "Make…. " he says in a fluid-filled gasp. Pink-tinged foam escapes from the side of his mouth. I wipe it away with my shirt.

"Her…" He sounds like he's choking.

I cry out, frustrated that there's nothing I can do.

"Happy."

"Don't say that Peeta. You're going to make me happy. You're not leaving me like this!" I scream.

His eyes roll back to me and his fingers flex weakly against my hand.

"No! Peeta, I love you. I love you with all my heart. Don't leave me! Don't leave me like this!" His lips curl up slightly, a fraction of the Peeta smile I adore, and his eyes become fixed again. Gale's partner begins pressing on his chest again and periodically breathing into his mouth, causing his chest to rise slightly.

I lay my forehead against Peeta's and let the tears really flow. I begin sobbing, loud, choking, all encompassing gasps that shake my body. I'm vaguely aware of Gale and the other person talking, but I ignore them. I grab Peeta's hair, touch his face, hold his hand, anything to make him stay with me for a few more minutes. But he doesn't respond to my touch. The usual warmth that emanates from him has disappeared, replaced by the icy shadows of death.

Eventually, Gale wraps his arm around my shoulder. "Katniss, we need to go."

"No," I scream between sobs. "I'm not leaving him."

"He's gone, Catnip." His voice catches. "There's nothing we can do. I'm sorry..."

He slides one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. Picking me up, he cradles me against his chest. I clutch his shirt, burying my face into it and soaking it with my tears.

I'm barely aware of the next few hours. I vaguely remember a short car ride and Gale carrying me up a set of stairs before placing me in a soft bed. He left the door slightly ajar, so I could see the blurry outlines of a number of people moving around in the adjacent room. They spoke in hushed whispers and under normal circumstances I would have needed to know what they were saying. But having Peeta die in my arms effectively extinguished my spark, my passion, my fight. My whole reason to live.

I'm walking the fine line between sanity and irrepressible despair. Just like after Prim died. Maybe even worse. This time, I truly am responsible. I never trusted Coin. I never should have let Peeta come with me. I should have listened to him—we could have hid out in the woods for the rest of our lives. Or I could have made things simpler—I could have killed Coin instead. Why didn't I have my bow on me when we entered her office? Why did I let my guard down?

These thoughts continue to swirl around in my head, tormenting me relentlessly. I close my eyes and beg for sleep in order to escape the continuous onslaught of self-loathing and guilt. But I know that without Peeta by my side, I'll never sleep well again. I'll have nightmares of our last minutes together and how I failed him. How I failed my boy with the bread when it mattered most.

Sometime later—hours, minutes, I'm not sure—the door squeaks and my eyes spring open automatically. I'm lying face up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the dark silhouette of Gale glide towards me. The bed sinks slightly at my hip as he sits down. I begin to meticulously analyze the ceiling. In the dim light, it's hard to tell what it's made of. Maybe wood or metal. Every few feet, there's a triad of small circular pieces that cast short shadows on the adjacent material. I begin counting the triads and then individual pieces in order to keep my thoughts at bay and prevent a recurrence of my immense sobbing from earlier. I remain stone-faced and unblinking while Gale sits uncomfortably at my side. A few times, he draws in a breath and I think he's about to speak, but then he lets it out with a quiet sigh. In the end, he merely covers my legs with a quilt adorning the end of the bed and then leaves the room to join the others.

After he departs, my resolute facade cracks and I begin sobbing. I curl up into the fetal position, and the ruthless feelings of guilt overtake me yet again. For the rest of my life, I know I will never forgive myself for what happened to Peeta.

After an immeasurable amount of time, the room begins to lighten. Through the window I see the first hints of the new day as orange rays poke around the large building in my view. The door squeaks again, but I don't bother turning to see who it is.

Someone plunks himself down at my back, and I know immediately it isn't Gale.

"It's hard to believe right now, but you'll learn to live with the pain. It won't get easier, but you'll learn to cope." It's Haymitch.

"I know what you're going through. They took the love of my life, too. I miss her every day… And I blame myself every day for not being stronger. For not protecting her."

New tears threaten to spill onto my cheeks.

"He was a good man. Better than most of us could ever hope to be. We'll all miss him."

The bed springs back up when he stands. I hear his shuffling footsteps and then he addresses someone else. "We'll see you _both_ at Headquarters in half an hour."

A loud sigh is followed by, "I'll do my best." And then Gale walks around the bed so he's looking at my red eyes and tear-stained face.

He kneels next to my head and places his hand on my cheek. "Don't let her win, Katniss. We need to fight back. Work with us. We'll get her impeached. We'll get her convicted of murder."

I stare impassively at the wall beyond Gale. Neither impeachment nor imprisonment is good enough. Death is what she deserves.

"You're stronger than this. I know you are, I've seen it," he says.

I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of having the people I love be taken away, leaving me to pick up the broken pieces. I've endured all I can. There's nothing left for me to give.

Gale draws in a deep breath and says, "Don't turn into your mother, Katniss."

His words are like a sword straight to my heart. My insides twist and turn, and all my muscles tighten. Through gritted teeth, I growl, "How dare you say that. You have no idea what I've gone through the past two years. What Peeta and I went through! Everyone I love is dead, Gale. Who do I need to be strong for? Prim's dead. Peeta's dead. I might as well be dead!"

He grabs my wrists and holds my gaze with a resolute stare. Punctuating each word, he says, "Don't. Ever. Say. That. Again."

I try to pull my arms free, but he easily holds me steady. I turn my head to the floor to at least break free from his glare.

"Come on. We're going to Headquarters," he says, pulling me into a sitting position.

"No."

"Yes." He stands me on my feet, but I let my knees buckle, hoping I'll fall onto the floor. Instead, he catches me, throws me over his shoulder, and begins walking towards the door.

"Damn you, Gale! I'm not going anywhere with you!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Doesn't look like you have much of a choice."

I begin pounding on his back with all the strength I can muster with my good arm, but he doesn't even flinch. I try kicking his chest, but he just holds my legs more firmly.

"I'll walk you like this all the way there if I have to."

"Put me down!"

"Will you play nice if I do."

"Of course," I lie in a sickenly sweet tone.

He gently lowers me to the ground. As soon as my feet touch the floor, I lash out with my right fist in an uppercut. It lands squarely on Gale's jaw, and he stumbles backwards a few steps.

"Don't ever do that to me again," I scream and run back to the bedroom. I slam the door for added effect and try to lock it, but of course the lock has been disabled. He's in the room seconds after me.

"Not bad," he says rubbing the red spot already forming on his cheek, just above his jawline.

He holds up his hands and says, "Okay, okay, truce. Let me level with you. You can't stay here by yourself. And things are heating up for us. I need to get to Headquarters today."

"I certainly can stay here by myself," I say with a scowl.

"Katniss—you don't even know where you are or whose house this is!"

"I…" I stop myself because he's right. "I'll go home then."

He rubs his eyes. "I'd prefer to go with you. Since everyone's seen the promotion, you don't have a lot of fans out there. It could be a rough trip."

"I'll manage," I say, walking towards the window.

"You don't even have money for a ticket."

"I'll sneak on."

He begins walking in my direction. "Why don't you just give this a try for a few days. You can hear what we're planning and if you're still not sold on it, we'll talk about your options," he says from directly behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I knock his hand off and turn to face him. "My options? You seem to have forgotten that you are not my keeper. I am free to do whatever I want!"

His face softens a little. "I'm sorry. You're right. This is all coming out wrong. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. "I'm going home today."

He sighs and looks at his watch. "The train leaves in 10 minutes. You won't make it. Come to Headquarters with me. You don't even have to join the meeting. You can spend the day in the spare room in the basement." He holds out his hand for me.

I glance out the window to get some sense of where we are and how long it will take me to get to the train station. But, all I see is the large apartment building across the street. Gale's certainly not going to give me directions and I have no idea where I am, so getting home today seems very unlikely. If I can't do that, then curling up in a ball in the spare room does sound like a fairly good alternative. I ignore his reach, but walk towards the door. "Fine, but I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

He nods assent, although the concern etched in the lines around his eyes is readily apparent. I know I'll have to come up with a plan to escape from Gale sometime during the night if I have any hope of making it home tomorrow. At least I have all day to figure it out.

We step into Headquarters less than 20 minutes later. Luckily, the street was empty so early in the morning, saving me from having to face any angry Capitol citizens chiding me for the promotion. With everything else that has happened, I don't think I could handle it.

All eyes turn to us as we walk into the room. Gale heads towards his usual seat, but points me to a door at the far end of the meeting space. I make a sharp left towards that door and the room beyond. Expectant eyes follow me, but I continue without stopping. As soon as I'm in the room, I lean my back against the wall, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I know I'm letting them down, but they have to realize I'm useless to them. Even if Peeta were still alive, my lack of interest and knowledge of politics and Coin's demented plans would make me a completely ineffective member of their team. With Peeta dead, I'm an emotional wreck who would provide even less.

I slowly open my eyes to survey the room. It's small and dark with a musty smell, like it's been closed up for ages. There are a number of boxes stacked around the small space, and a tiny mattress lays on the floor against the wall to my right. It's covered with a thin, green wool blanket riddled with holes. I sit down on it and try to collect my thoughts. How am I going to get away from Gale?

I run my fingers through my hair and use the heels of my hands to rub the headache that's been pounding above my eyes since last night. I silently wonder if it will ever go away. When I lift my head, I spot a haphazard stack of papers on the floor to my right. I reach down and grab them without thinking. The image on the first one takes my breath away. It's me. Me as a child in school. I'm standing in front of the class singing. I know immediately it's Peeta's work. The delicate strokes and attention to even the finest detail can only be from him. He must have done these to occupy his time while he was staying here.

I shuffle to the next paper. Again me, older this time and sitting in the rain looking distressed and malnourished. I move through the stack, each one is me at a different point in my life—volunteering for Prim at the reaping, ablaze in the tribute parade, sleeping in Tigress' basement, sitting on the steps of the ruined Justice Building—but it's the last one that elicits an involuntary whimper and brings instantaneous tears to my eyes. It's me and Peeta on the roof of the Training Center. My head rests on his chest as I weave together flower stems and he looks at me adoringly.

I fold up the last sheet of paper and place it in my pocket. I close my eyes willing myself not to cry again. It's a small piece of Peeta that I can keep with me. A small piece of one of the happier times we shared.

"Ahem…"

I'm startled by the sound of a throat clearing. My eyes jerk open to find Paylor standing in the doorway.

"Katniss, we could use your help out here."

"I seriously doubt that," I say without emotion. I turn away from her and pull my knees up to my chest.

"I'd expect you of all people would want revenge on Coin," she says pointedly before turning and leaving.

I hear her voice trailing off as she walks farther away, addressing the group gathered in the adjacent room. "Ok, let's get down to business. Gale, fill everyone in on yesterday's events…"

Revenge. I roll the word around my mouth a few times. I had my revenge on Snow. Why not Coin? Doesn't Peeta deserve that? An idea slowly begins to develop in my head.

* * *

**A/N: So, how much do you hate me now?** **I just want everyone to know that I'm not a cruel person-there really is a well thought out reason for all of this! (And, as hard as it is to believe, I really am Team Peeta. But, I have a lot of respect for Gale and thought it would be more of a challenge to write this type of story :)**


	20. Chapter 18

Of course my revenge on Snow was under the rebels' terms. Do as they wanted and then I was allowed to kill him. Why should I bother siding with the Nationalists now? Why not have revenge on my own terms? The Nationalists will be satisfied with removing Coin from power, but that's not acceptable to me. Death is all that I will accept. Either she dies or I die trying. I owe that to Peeta. And Prim.

My mind begins racing as my new sense of purpose develops. I slide off the mattress and squat next to the open door in order to hear the discussion in the other room.

Gale's talking. "As you know, after receiving approval by the group yesterday afternoon, one of our moles paid a visit to Coin and successfully planted the bug in her office. Beetee and I began monitoring the input immediately. I don't think any of us could have predicted what we would see." His voice falters slightly, and then he slowly continues, "Katniss and Peeta stopped by Coin's office to pick up train tickets to return home. While they were there, she attacked them." He gulps and adds, "Peeta was killed." The room is completely silent.

I peek my head around the doorjamb to see the reaction. Gale is rubbing his right temple. Paylor's hand is resting on his shoulder. Haymitch's back is to me, but his shoulders are slumped. Others seem to be in shock. The guy who was sitting next to Peeta yesterday is staring at Gale with his mouth hanging open. Even Plutarch, who was never a fan of Peeta, is frowning.

After a few moments, Gale continues. "Avery and I rescued Katniss, but there was nothing we could do for Peeta. Unfortunately, I'm sure Coin is suspicious as to how we showed up so quickly. To prevent her from finding the bug, we had it self-destruct right after we left. But I think it's feasible that we could plant another one in a few days, once this isn't so fresh in her mind."

"Thank you, Gale," Paylor says with a warm smile. Too warm. For a Vice President, she sure can come across as unprofessional, especially at a time like this. I glower at her from my hiding spot.

"Hani, any news from your team?" Paylor turns to a middle-aged man with a powerful brow, deep-set eyes, and pale brown skin.

"Yes. You know we've been closely following Coin's conjecture that Eurasia is eyeing our northern territories, considering the use of force if we don't acquiesce to their demands."

Everyone around the table nods.

Eurasia? I have to stretch my memory back to World History in 8th grade to recall anything about Eurasia. I believe that country was formed around the same time as Panem, when the global economy failed and the world was on the brink of World War III. What we learned was that Panem bowed out, letting the rest of the world fight for dominance. By doing this, we were able to keep the land that was previously known as North America, but we gave up trade with any other country. We were essentially shut-off and self-contained. I'm sure the rest of the world figured it would only be a matter of time before we would fail and they could swoop in and take over.

If I remember correctly, after years of bloodshed and countless lost lives, Eurasia and the Republic of Chinussia were the two countries that emerged from the war, each claiming about half the world's land beyond Panem. We were always taught that we should be grateful to Panem for protecting us from war and the tyranny of those other countries. I laugh inwardly because Panem has certainly had its fair share of tyranny.

But, why is Eurasia now interested in us after almost a hundred years? I turn my attention back to Hani.

"Well, we were fortunate last night. My team was finally able to successfully launch a jet. A multidisciplinary squad is currently en route to Eurasia to get information. They should land within the hour if all goes as planned."

The group around the tables erupts in whistles, high-fives, and congratulatory shouts.

"It's about time," Haymitch says grumpily.

"I agree," Hani says shaking his head. "Coin has got every landing strip under tight surveillance. We finally found a high-ranking supporter in District 8 who was willing to help. With Beetee's aid we were able to scramble the radar until the jet was well beyond the range of Coin's monitoring."

"And now you're just going to land the jet in another country?" Plutarch asks incredulously. "They'll shoot it down before it gets within 50 miles of the coast!"

"That is certainly a risk. Beetee has been working on setting up some international telecommunications, so we could contact them beforehand, but Coin's team effectively blocks every single strategy he comes up with. She doesn't want anyone talking to them."

"Because we might figure out everything she says is a lie?" Gale asks sarcastically.

"Let's hope so," Hani says with a sad smile. "Anyway, we didn't want to wait any longer to make contact. We have a negotiator on board and the plane was painted with the international sign of peace. As soon as they're within radio range, they're going to explain their mission. We all need to keep our fingers crossed that this goes well."

A somber tone spreads through the room.

Paylor eventually breaks the silence. "The last thing I want to discuss is our Cabinet meeting from yesterday. The main thing Coin covered was the importance of continuing to increase the size of the military in order to be able to defend ourselves should we be invaded. She wants to expand recruitment efforts and has us starting an ad campaign aimed at the unemployed. Offering them positions in the military in exchange for food for their family."

"Adding to our military isn't helping rebuild our cities!" Gale exclaims, slamming his fist on the table. "At some point, you have to wonder what we're defending! A broken, hopeless wasteland!"

Paylor nods and quietly says, "You're right." She sighs. "Let's adjourn for now. We can reconvene at seventeen hundred hours. By then, we should have more information from Hani's team."

The group stands and individuals begin talking quietly amongst themselves. Paylor leans in close to Gale, but he excuses himself and begins walking towards me. I quickly move over to the mattress, so he won't know I was watching.

Within seconds, he's leaning through the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

I shrug. "It's a free world, at least in theory."

"Are you still planning on going home tomorrow?"

I shrug again.

"I really wish you'd reconsider."

I say nothing, so he continues. "I don't want you to be by yourself right now. But, I'm needed here. I've got a future here. You could too, Katniss. Why don't you stay here with me? Maybe doing something different would be good for you. Help take your mind off of everything…"

If I'm to get my revenge on Coin, it would be easier to plan from here than back in District 12. Plus the information I get out of the Nationalists might prove useful in my yet-to-be devised plan. But I don't want to give Gale the satisfaction of thinking he convinced me to stay.

"Just think about it, okay?"

I nod.

"So, we have a few free hours. Do you want to stay here or go back to the house?"

"Whose house is it?"

"Paylor's."

I grimace. "I'll pass. Actually, I'd like to be alone for awhile."

He purses his lips. "I don't feel totally comfortable with that."

"I don't really care what you're comfortable with Gale!" I cross my arms over my chest and press my back against the wall.

He sighs. "I need to visit Tigress. I want to get you a disguise so it will be safer for you to move around. Plus if you leave tomorrow, you'll need it for the train ride. You'll stay here while I'm gone?"

"Where else am I going to go?" I reply crossly.

With that, he leaves, and I begin formulating my plan for revenge. I need to get to Coin when she's alone. I could try her office, but I'd have to get past any number of guards. Where else does she go during the day? I realize I have no idea. Maybe I should just stalk her and strike when the opportunity presents itself. But Gale's watchful eyes would figure that out pretty quickly. He'd lock me in this room before I even got close to her.

I replay the events of the last 24 hours in my mind. The heartbreaking viewing of the promotion, the shock I felt with Coin's impassioned speech, and the despair that will stay with me always. Something flickers on the edge of my memory. Something small and rather inconsequential at the time, but monumental now. A wicked smile spreads across my face—I suddenly know the perfect opportunity to exact my revenge.


	21. Chapter 19

**A/N: Thanks for all the kind reviews! I'm really enjoying writing this, so it's nice to know that folks are enjoying reading it, too! **

* * *

By the time Gale returns, I've devised a plan. The hardest part will be getting away from him so I can arrange everything. I'm hopeful that if I pretend I'm willing to help the Nationalists, he'll cut me a little slack, though.

When he walks through the door, he tosses me a large duffel bag. "Make sure you wear what's in here whenever you go outside."

"Okay."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

He holds a sandwich out to me anyway. "You have to eat, Katniss."

I reluctantly take it from his hands and place it on the floor in front of me.

After lowering himself next to me on the mattress, he takes a large bite of his lunch. Once he swallows, he says, "So… I was thinking maybe we could go hunting today."

That surprises me. "Don't you need to save the world?" I ask, picking at the ragged edge of the wool blanket.

"I can take a few hours off."

"Why?"

"We're waiting to see what happens with Hani's team before we move forward with anything else."

I roll my eyes and look at him. "That's not what I meant. Why do you want to go hunting?"

Shrugging, he says, "I miss it. The peacefulness of the woods, the sense of being in complete control."

It seems like he wants to say more, but he bites his lower lip and focuses on the scuffed floorboards instead.

Hunting with Gale could work to my advantage. If I go with him and put on a good show to convince him I'm fine, maybe he'll stop hovering over me. Plus, I could really use the target practice. I don't have long before I'll need to be in top shape again.

"Okay." I say.

His head shoots up in surprise. "Well, that was easy. I'll get us a ride." Pulling up his shirtsleeve, he reveals a communicuff encircling his wrist.

"How can you use that without Coin knowing?" I ask.

"Beetee reprogrammed them. We're on a different frequency, and he scrambled all the waves, so no one can listen in."

He exits the room and begins talking to someone. Not even 30 seconds later, he leans his head through the door and says, "Meet me upstairs in 20 minutes."

After picking at my sandwich for a bit, I open the duffel bag and choose an outfit that will have to suffice for hunting. The bright colors will make it difficult to blend into nature, but at least the material is sturdy and should provide some protection against the underbrush.

I quickly dress and then finish the disguise by donning a blond wig. When I enter the bar, Gale's gaze meets mine. He covers his mouth with his hand and I know he's stifling a laugh.

"What?" I ask, irritated.

"Nothing." Wrinkles appear at the corners of his eyes, letting me know that he's smiling behind his fist. "Blond is a good look for you."

I flash him an angry scowl and head outside where Haymitch is behind the wheel of a beat-up, powder blue car that has clearly seen better days. Gale takes a seat in front and I climb in back, next to Gale's old game bag. I open it and find both of our bows inside. Gale must have grabbed my belongings from Coin's office yesterday. I slide my fingers along the smooth wood, finding comfort in something that is so much a part of me. Something that will help me bring justice to this screwed up world we live in.

Thirty minutes later, we're on the outskirts of the Capitol. Houses are farther apart and there are even fewer people on the streets. Compared to the city center, it looks like this neighborhood fared much better during the revolution. But despite the lack of intended damage, this area appears to have been neglected for years. Colorful paint peels off the houses, overgrown grass and weeds occupy the front yards, and tattered garments hang from clotheslines in the backyards. I didn't realize the Capitol had areas that weren't perfect. It makes me wonder what these people did to upset Snow.

"Where are we going?" I ask impatiently. "There were holes in the city wall back where we were—we could have easily slipped into the woods from there."

"Yeah, and have Coin's guards see us. According to Paylor, they don't patrol this area, so we should be safer here," Gales says from the front seat.

We continue following the wall until we find a hole big enough to crawl through.

"Be careful," Haymitch says in farewell. "And meet me back here at sixteen hundred hours."

We quickly scurry out of the car and under the cover of trees. I can't believe how much better I feel once we've escaped the city. The forest is different from our forest, but the towering trees and chirping birds bring a tranquility I haven't felt in a while. I didn't realize how stifling the Capitol has been. I yank off the blond wig and hook it through my belt, enjoying the wind against my neck.

Then, I begin running. I have no purpose, but the freedom is exhilarating. I run away from the Capitol, and Coin, and even Paylor. I run from the pain that being in the Capitol has always brought me. I run from the memories of the night before. I pump my legs hard and go deeper and deeper into the forest until the rays of sun are replaced by dark shadows and the ground beneath my feet shifts from grass to rich soil covered in pine needles.

Eventually the pounding in my chest is too overwhelming. Out of breath, I stop, bend over, and rest my hands on my thighs. Gale easily jogs to my side, not even panting. If my plan is to be successful, I'll need to get back in shape. Exercise must become a priority.

"Feel better?" he asks with a tentative smile.

I nod. "Why aren't you even breathing heavy?"

"Because I'm inherently a better athlete than you."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously."

He shrugs. "I've been working out. Jogging five miles a day. Want to join me tomorrow morning?"

"Maybe."

The shock is apparent on his face, but he says nothing. Instead, he opens the game bag and hands me my bow and quiver. I place them on my back and relish in the feeling of completeness. It's been too long since I've been in the woods with my bow. With Gale. Yes, even he is adding to the sense of normalcy.

We walk in silence for a few minutes until we reach a bluff overlooking a river bed. It's the perfect spot to catch animals coming up for a drink. Without exchanging a word, we both kneel on the ground, pulling our bows to the front and waiting for the first unfortunate animal.

We hear the rustling of leaves before we see them. Two small does step out from the trees and walk to the water's edge. Gale pulls back on his arrow and they still, sensing something in the air. After a moment, one leans her head down to lap at the water, giving Gale the opportunity he needs. He releases the arrow. It's a clean shot through the heart, and the animal collapses to the ground immediately. The other doe scurries off the way it had come.

Gale looks at me. "I thought you'd take the other one."

A deer is no challenge. I'm looking for a rabbit or squirrel, something that will test my skills, so I know exactly how much work I have to do.

I shrug. "We have limited space to bring game back with us."

"That's never stopped you before," he snorts.

Just then, a squirrel appears on the other side of the river. I quickly take aim, but the cast on my left arm is cumbersome. My wrist doesn't move like it should. I try to compensate for the limited range of motion, but when I release the arrow, it lands solidly in a tree behind the squirrel.

Gale lets out a deep laugh. "Not even close! Maybe you should wait until your arm heals."

I scowl because I'm worried he's right. But I don't have time to wait for it to heal. I need to learn how to shoot with it. I spend the next hour on a mission. I'm a mad woman relentlessly pursuing the unsuspecting squirrels of the forest one after another. Every miss propels me forward with even greater intensity. Even after I begin hitting them, I'm not satisfied. I continue moving through the woods taking fastidious aim until I finally land an arrow through an eye. I run to my prize and hold it up triumphantly.

"Will you let the poor squirrels live in peace now?" Gale teases from behind me. Intent on my mission, I had totally forgotten he was with me.

He walks my way, carrying all the squirrels I had killed before the final one.

"I'm guessing squirrel isn't a delicacy in the Capitol," he says, "but, maybe Tallis can make it into a stew or something, and no one will notice."

I finally let out a long breath and allow my muscles to relax. No doubt Gale is thinking I've totally lost it. So much for convincing him I'm fine.

Then, he punches me playfully in the arm. "Not bad—it only took 12 squirrels to get your deadly accuracy back."

I can't help but smile. He doesn't think I'm crazy. He just knows I'm a perfectionist when it comes to hunting. We walk back to where he shot the deer and I sit with my feet in the river as he cleans his catch.

"Thanks for coming out here with me", he says, sliding his knife under the animal's hide. Once he's exposed the leg muscles, he continues, "You look better out here. Maybe you're right—maybe it would be best for you to go home."

I do feel better out here, there's no doubting that. Focusing on hunting took my mind off of Peeta for the first time since everything fell apart. Unfortunately, as soon as I sit still for a couple minutes, it all comes rushing back with a vengeance. I swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Gale continues talking. "I'll go back as often as I can to visit and make sure everything's okay. We could get my mom and the kids to move back from District 13, too. They could stay with you to help out. You know, cook, help with the cleaning…"

He's already started making plans. "Stop Gale. It's fine. I'm staying. I'm going to help the Nationalists," I say quietly.

He momentarily stops what he's doing. "Why?"

I look to the ground because I can't lie to his face. "I want to help."

"Of course—Katniss Everdeen, the world renowned humanitarian. Are you sure you don't have an ulterior motive?"

How does he know me so well? "Nope," I say, running my fingers through the pine needles on the ground in front of me.

He grunts and continues working on the deer. He knows something is up. I'll need to be even more careful than I thought.

We're quiet the rest of the afternoon. I think about Peeta and how to keep Gale out of the way of my revenge. I'm sure Gale is wondering what I'm up to. We meet Haymitch right on time and arrive back at Headquarters as the group reconvenes. This time I sit at the table in Peeta's old place. People regard me out of the corners of their eyes, but no one comments on my sudden presence.

Paylor doesn't waste any time. "We've had some major developments. Everyone be seated," she says authoritatively, as she strides through the door. "Hani's team successfully landed in Eurasia. They're currently in discussions with governmental authorities, but early information indicates Eurasia has not made threats to Panem. It appears that Coin is spreading misinformation to her Cabinet members."

"Surprise, surprise," Gale murmurs under his breath.

Paylor gives him a warning glance and continues, "Unfortunately, that's not the most troubling news."


	22. Chapter 20

"Oh hell… what is it now?" Haymitch grumbles.

"We received intelligence from our folks in 13. Coin has asked them to provide her with an estimate of costs and time needed to arm two fleets with nuclear warheads," Paylor says.

Gasps escape from the gaping mouths around the table.

"For what purpose?" Hani exclaims.

"All she said was that the country needed to be prepared for an invasion. She's making District 13 nervous. They think an attack is imminent," Paylor says.

"But Eurasia claims they've never threatened us," Gale says coldly.

"Eurasia states they've never communicated with Coin and didn't even know about the revolution or Snow's death," Hani clarifies.

"Do you really think she's doing this as a form of defense?" Plutarch asks the group.

"Possibly," Avery says. "Remember when she was in charge of 13? Having nuclear weapons was the only reason we were free from the Capitol. Maybe she sees this as security. Security that no other country will mess with us in the future."

"But why spread lies about an attack? Why not explain it that way?" Plutarch counters.

"Because people are starving, their homes and businesses have been destroyed, they're out of work unless they're in the military, and she's spending the country's money on arming jets with nuclear weapons, rather than helping those of us who put her in office," I say quietly.

All eyes settle on me.

"That's a good point," Haymitch agrees. "She's not going to get much support unless she convinces people there's a reason we need to be prepared."

"Yeah, she's trying to unite the country against a common enemy, even though there really isn't one," Gale says.

"So, what's the plan?" Hani asks. "What kind of evidence do we want my team to gather while they're in Eurasia?"

"Documentation that there has been no threat. Let's get it in written and video form. That should be sufficient to take to the Cabinet as grounds for an investigation," Paylor says.

"And then what?" I ask. All heads turn to me again.

"Then we try to remove her from office. Impeach her. Once we prove that she's been lying to the Cabinet in order to advance her own goals at the expense of our citizens, she should receive little sympathy. Our ultimate objective is to have a fair election so our leader actually represents the people he or she leads," Paylor explains simply, as though I should already know.

I nod in understanding. Of course, if I'm successful, there will be no one to impeach.

I barely listen to the discussion the rest of the meeting. The group has moved on to other Nationalists' goals like how to implement a country-wide voting system and developing a set of governing rules. I focus on my agenda and make a mental list of everything I need to accomplish in a short time.

When Paylor finally adjourns the meeting, I stand and walk towards the spare room. Gale follows me and lightly grabs my arm just as I'm about to pass through the doorway. "Don't you want to come back with us?"

I pivot to face him. "To Paylor's house?"

"Yeah."

"No. I'll stay here," I say, turning back towards the room.

"Okay. Let me go get our stuff. I'll be back in a few minutes."

I sigh. He's going to make it incredibly difficult for me to get some alone time. And without alone time, I'll never be able to put my plan into action. "No, you stay there. I'll be fine by myself," I say with very little hope of changing his mind.

As expected, he waves me off and is out the door before I can object again.

I know I only have a few moments before he returns, so I make the most of my time. I quickly change into my disguise and head up to the bar. A few patrons lean wearily on the counter, looking like they've already had enough to drink. Tallis is at the sink wiping glasses. I walk up to him, and he smiles at me.

"I like the new hair style," he says with a wink.

"Um, thanks," I say self-consciously. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." He pulls me to the corner, out of earshot of the men at the bar. "What is it?"

"Do you know Cressida, the journalist who helped the rebels?"

"Of course, why?"

"I need her help. Do you know where I can find her?"

He pulls a slip of paper and a pencil out of his pocket. "Her office is about a 5-minute walk from here," he says while writing down her address and directions.

I thank him and then go back to my dingy little room. A few minutes later, Gale is back, carrying both of our bags. He tosses me mine and then sits on the floor opposite me.

"Why don't you want to stay at Paylor's house?" he asks.

"It seems too risky," I lie, but it makes sense. Surely Coin is watching Paylor's every move and if Gale and some random girl in an ill-fitting wig stay with her, it will throw up some serious red flags.

"That isn't her real house. Her real house is on the grounds of the President's Mansion. That's where she sleeps. This is a secondary house she acquired from a supporter for the Nationalists' use. She doesn't spend much time there so it's probably pretty safe."

"Then why don't you go back there?" I suggest.

He smirks. "Always so eager to get rid of me." He lies back on the dusty floor and stares at the ceiling. "Good night, Catnip."

Ignoring him, I flip the light switch and roll on my side so I'm facing the wall. I pull the picture of me and Peeta out of my pocket, kiss it lightly, and then continue to stare at it, tears blurring my vision, until my body finally succumbs to the emotional and physical exhaustion of the last thirty-six hours.

But, my sleep is riddled with visions of Coin and Peeta. When Gale wakes me in the morning, I feel as exhausted as I did the night before.

"Ugh. What time is it?" I ask.

"Five thirty. Time for a run. You in?" He turns on the dim overhead light.

I move my arm over my eyes, shielding myself from the light. Running is the last thing I feel like doing, but I only have a few days and I need to be in better shape. Plus, this might be a good opportunity to break free from Gale and pay a visit to Cressida.

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes," I say.

"Okay, I'll be upstairs. Come up when you're ready."

Once he leaves, I quickly change into the most appropriate exercise attire I can find in the duffel bag, careful to put Tallis' directions in my pocket. I groan as I finish off the look with the blond wig—this ought to make running fun.

Once we're outside, Gale leads us, slowly at first, along the grid-like pattern of streets. The sidewalks are empty and I seriously consider taking off the ridiculous wig that is quickly becoming soaked with sweat. But then Gale increases the pace and I can't think about anything other than trying to keep up with him. He takes long, graceful strides while I fight to put one foot in front of the other, my breathing becoming more and more ragged with each step. At the two and a half mile mark, I finally give up.

I stop and place my hands on my hips, trying to catch my breath. After a couple seconds, Gale realizes I'm not behind him anymore. He turns and easily jogs back to my side. "Too far?"

Nodding, I say, "I'm done. I'll see you back at Headquarters."

"I'll come with you," he offers.

"No, no. Finish your run. I'll be fine."

He's torn—I can tell by the look in his eyes.

"Really, you should finish," I say.

He nods and then continues down the street, but glances back at me after a few seconds, probably second guessing his decision. I start walking to the last corner we passed. When I get there, I quickly glance over my shoulder to make sure Gale is out of site. Feeling assured that he's not watching me, I turn into the cross street and pull out Tallis' directions. We've been headed the wrong way, but it still shouldn't take me more than ten minutes. As I walk, I consider whether or not Cressida will be in her office so early in the morning.

But when the elevator opens on the tenth floor, my concerns immediately vanish. Unlike, the relatively quiet streets outside, this place is teeming with people running around frantically. People yelling in headsets, people carrying large cups of coffee, and people scribbling on clipboards all dodge each other as they move through the maze of cubicles. Directly in front of me is a large desk with a young, perky woman seated behind it, smiling at me.

"May I help you?" she asks warmly.

"Is Cressida here?"

"Yes. Is she expecting you?"

"Um, no. Not really," I say, fidgeting with the hem of my Capitol shirt.

"May I tell her who's calling?"

"Kat… um… Ms. Mellark," I say.

"Very well. Please have a seat and I'll give Cressida a call."

I sit on the purple sofa and wring my hands as the receptionist calls Cressida. At least she didn't seem suspicious of my name. She nods into the phone and then glances at me with a frown on her face. Her mouth forms the word "no" and I wonder what they're discussing. Finally she hangs up and directs her attention back to me. "Cressida will be out in just a moment."

I nod and take a deep breath. But before I can take another, Cressida is standing in front of me, staring at me with her head tilted to the side.

"Ms… Mellark. It's been a long time. I've been meaning to catch up with you. Please come to my office."

I follow Cressida to her glassed-in room. As soon as we walk through the door, she pulls curtains, giving us privacy from the rest of the office.

"And how is Peeta, Katniss?" She asks affectionately once we're both seated.

My body shudders involuntarily at her question, and I gulp. "Dead," I say, moving my eyes from her to a framed picture of what must be her family. Once the threat of tears has passed, I meet her gaze again.

She looks at me with wide eyes and a deep frown. "I'm so sorry. What happened?" she asks in a whisper.

"Coin shot him. In front of me. To torture me."

She covers her mouth with her hand, and I can tell she's deeply troubled by the news. She leans back in her chair and begins turning to look out the large picture window, but not before I catch the moisture glistening in the corner of her eye. I follow her gaze through the glass. At one time, it likely had a spectacular view of the city. Not it just gives a bird's eye view of the destruction that remains.

After a couple moments, she slowly turns back around. "What can I do for you today?" she asks, regaining her composure and getting down to business.

"In exchange for you assistance, I'll give you the story of the year."

"I'm listening…"

Over the next half hour, I explain everything that has happened to me and Peeta and everything that I'm planning. I leave out the details about the Nationalists, but even without that, Cressida looks interested. When I finish, I say, "So, do you think you can do what I'm asking of you?"

"I can probably pull some strings. Give me a day to work things out on my end. Do you have a number I can call you at?"

"No. Let's meet in person tonight. Can you come to the Capitol Lounge on Fifth Street?"

She nods. "I'll be there at seven o'clock."

"Thank you, Cressida." I reach my hand out, but she comes from around the desk and embraces me instead. "I'm very sorry for your loss. You've been through so much. This is the least I can do."

When I get back to Headquarters, I know I'm in trouble because Gale is pacing around the meeting room, his hair wet from a recent shower.

"Where the hell have you been?" he glowers at me.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again for your reviews! But, a gentle reminder that most of us are aspiring writers on here, and we should really treat each other with respect. I don't mind negative reviews, as long as they're constructive. If you disagree with the direction my story is taking, rather than providing an emotional diatribe and hateful language, why not provide a coherent and logical argument for your viewpoint? That would give your words much greater weight. I know these types of reviews are in the minority, so I also want to say thank you to the numerous folks who have provided very helpful, constructive reviews. I feel like your feedback is making my story stronger, chapter by chapter! **


	23. Chapter 21

"I got lost," I say in a weak attempt to explain why it took me almost an hour to get back to Headquarters.

"Lost? We made two turns!"

"I'm grieving. You can't expect me to keep up with every little detail," I say and then rush to my little room.

Gale enters right behind me and takes a deep breath. I can tell it's taking his full effort to not blow up on me. He clenches his fists and says, "I'm just glad you're hear safe and sound. Please tell me nothing happened while you were wandering around the city."

"No. Of course not. What would happen?"

"No telling with you," he mumbles under his breath. He steps out of the room and yells through the open door, "Everyone will be here in thirty minutes, I suggest you get cleaned up quickly."

I roll my eyes at his demanding voice, but follow his recommendation.

The discussion throughout the day is a continuation from yesterday. At numerous points, I find myself dozing off. Every now and then, the guy sitting next to me elbows me in the side causing me to wake up with a start. When Paylor finally dismisses the group, I retreat to my room.

As seven o'clock approaches, I feel my anxiety rise. Even though the meeting has ended, Gale and Beetee remain in their seats, talking about some new plan for spying on Coin. In order to meet Cressida, I'll need to make it through the meeting space without Gale getting suspicious and following me.

At five minutes to seven, I know I can't wait any longer. I put on my wig and colorful clothes and walk through the meeting room with a purpose. When I make it to the adjacent storeroom, I hear chair legs scrape against the floor. I stop, knowing what this means. Gale runs into my back.

"Ugh..," he moans grabbing my shoulders, turning me around. "What are you doing?"

"I'm bored. I'm going to help Tallis."

His eyes narrow as he studies my face. I keep it blank, giving nothing away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, but nods. "Alright. Holler if you need anything."

"Your clinginess is really starting to get on my nerves," I say tersely. I spin on my heel and climb upstairs without a backward glance.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I see that Cressida has already arrived and she's talking to Tallis at the bar. I walk to her side and they both look at me. "Shall we have a seat?" I ask nodding to a booth in the corner.

"Of course. Tallis, nice seeing you again."

He smiles in return, and Cressida and I move to the quiet corner.

"So, were you able to get everything arranged on your side?" I ask her.

"Yes. We're all set. As we discussed, I'm bringing Pollux with me. And, as you know, there's the one variable we can't control for. We'll have to keep our fingers crossed on that. But my research today indicates it shouldn't be a problem."

"Okay, good."

Cressida provides me with the remaining details and then we hug like old friends and go our separate ways. Although I suspect her main motivation for doing this is the story, I'm thankful that she has been so kind and eager to help. Without her, it would be impossible for me to carry out my plan.

So that I didn't completely lie to Gale, I decide to head behind the counter to help Tallis clean glassware. Smiling warmly, he hands me a towel. He does a nice job of keeping up a slow pace of small talk. He wisely avoids the topic of Peeta and instead focuses on edible plants and cleaning squirrels or tells me stories of his childhood when he used to rebel against his parents. He actually gets me to laugh a couple times at the crazy antics he pulled.

I'm surprised when he ushers his last patron out and locks the door. It's hard to believe that four hours have passed so quickly—talking to him reminds me a lot of talking to Cinna. Which makes me think of everything that has happened the past two years—especially what happened two nights ago. My thoughts are quickly turning dark, so I push them aside and instead focus on Tallis' story of when he and a childhood friend vandalized the statue of Snow in the downtown square, giving him horns and tail. I smile at the picture in my head. Tallis will be a Capitol person I'll miss when I leave.

When I return downstairs, Gale and Beetee are still at the table with pages and pages of diagrams spread out between them.

"I think this is our best option," Gale says pointing to a diagram. "We don't need video. Audio should be sufficient."

Beetee nods. "Yes, I agree, but do you really think you'll be able to install it without being noticed?"

"No problem" he says with an arrogant smile. "I'll call Paylor so we can clear it with her. How long will it take you to create this?"

"Two days max."

I continue to the small room and lie down on the mattress, preparing myself for another restless night.

* * *

Gale wakes me up for our morning run. It's been four days since I talked to Cressida and our plan was set into motion. As long as I focus on that plan and revenge, I'm able to keep my grief at the edges of my mind. It's those moments when I lose focus that I risk falling into the deep despair that tormented me after Prim's death.

This morning, however, excitement for what's to come tonight and tomorrow causes me to leap up with enthusiasm. Gale's attitude, on the other hand, has been in a downward spiral the past few days. He doesn't talk to me about whatever is upsetting him, and I don't bother asking.

"Looks like someone had a good night of sleep," he says grumpily.

He couldn't be further from the truth. I'm lucky if I get a couple uninterrupted hours of sleep a night. But within thirty-six hours, Coin will be dead. That's enough to keep me going.

A few hours later, we're gathered in the meeting room with the rest of the group. As soon as we entered, Beetee grabbed Gale and pulled him to the corner. They're talking animatedly when Paylor joins them. She pats Gale on the back and says something that causes him to frown.

"Please be seated. Things have taken a turn for the worse," Paylor says, walking towards her chair.

Everyone sits, watching her anxiously. I look to Gale; he's staring at his folded hands on the tabletop.

"Gale successfully planted an audio transducer in Coin's office two nights ago," she says, smiling proudly at Gale.

"How'd you do that with all the guards she's got there now?" Haymitch asks.

"Through the outside. I drilled a small hole in the cement exterior and placed a fiberscopic cable with a video camera through it. With that I was able to weave my way around wires and plumbing to get to the interior wall. The head of the audio transducer is no bigger than a pinhead, so I made a miniscule hole in the wall and placed the transducer through it."

"What about the rest of the transducer?" asks Hani.

"I attached the rest of it to the backside of the wall with some heavy duty glue. So far it's holding well. I then patched up the hole in the cement with a little plaster and was out of there in less than three minutes."

Nods of approval come from around the room.

"I'm assuming what we heard is the troubling news?" Plutarch asks.

Paylor nods solemnly. "Our assumption of Coin wanting nuclear warheads as a defensive action was incorrect. It appears she plans on taking offensive action."

Everyone begins talking at once. It's pure chaos as the ramifications of what Paylor said begin to sink in. She holds up her hands to quiet the room. "I'll tell you what we know. We recorded a conversation between Coin and Maxim Groll, the Executive General, the head of our military. She asked him what he thought our chances were of defeating Eurasia with a surprise attack using our current arsenal of nuclear weapons."

"What did he say?" Haymitch asks.

"Unfortunately, we don't know since she was on the phone. We only have her side of the conversation. But, based on how the conversation went, it sounded like we have at least a few months before anything could happen. We still have time to make a difference."

"Does Eurasia have nuclear weapons?" Plutarch asks.

"No. But the Republic of Chinussia does," Hani says.

"And how are international relations between those two countries? Any chance the Republic of Chinussia will side with Eurasia and retaliate against us?"

"I would imagine that's a huge risk," Hani answers.

"Unless Coin is conspiring with Chinussia," the man next to me says.

Again, shouts ring out through the room. Our country may initiate a World War IV and we don't even know why.

Echoing my thoughts, Avery raises her voice above the din, "Why? Did she say why she's doing this?"

Paylor shakes her head, but Gale speaks up. "Because she's power-hungry and cares nothing about our country. She just wants to make a name for herself in the history books by expanding her reign as much as possible."

"With no consideration for the number of lives that will be lost," I add quietly. Suddenly, Dr. Aurelius words come back to haunt me. _"There are many lives at stake. Many more than in the revolution. We're talking millions."_

I realize that my actions tonight and tomorrow serve a much bigger purpose than I've been thinking. They're not just for revenge, but to save the lives of millions. Dr. Aurelius was right, my biggest role is yet to come. I blanch at the thought.

"What are we going to do?" asks Hani.

"We have to walk a fine line. Obviously this intelligence was gained illegally. We can't present it to the Cabinet."

"Maybe if we present it unofficially to members we can slowly tip the scale, though," Plutarch suggests. "There are a number of moderate members who might be swayed with this information."

"That's certainly a possibility." After a sigh, Paylor continues, "Look, we aren't going to come up with our answer right here, right now. Let's all take a day, work with our teams to brainstorm some ideas, and then we'll reconvene tomorrow morning. At that time we'll start sorting through our options."

I'm barely listening now because if all goes well, their plans won't matter. Coin will be dead tomorrow. But, if I fail… I shudder at the thought. If I fail, I won't be around to see what happens.

Paylor's voice breaks my concentration. "Gale, I need you on my team tonight. We're installing more bugs and I need your expertise."

His face is pale. "What time?"

She glares at him with disbelief. "All evening and night," she says shortly.

"I'm sorry, but I'm only available until eighteen hundred hours," he says quietly.

She continues glaring at him. "We'll take this offline." She turns her attention to the team members surrounding the table. "The rest of you are free to go. Please take this seriously. Your country is depending on you."

Everyone slowly files out of the room except for me, Gale, and Paylor, who looks at me and says, "Could we have a little privacy, Katniss."

"Oh, sure," I mumble and slide off my chair. I walk to the little room and sit just inside the door so I can hear their conversation. I've never seen Paylor so angry with Gale or him so anxious.

"Shut the door!" she yells from across the room. I stand and quickly follow her order, but place my ear against it. Unfortunately, I can't hear anything other than an occasional word here and there.

I plop down on the mattress, replaying the events of the meeting and determining how this new information will factor into my plan. But, realistically, the only thing it changes is the importance of me succeeding.

A few moments later, Gale opens the door, his face red, sweat beading on his forehead. He kicks a stack of boxes and then punches another, sending foam shipping material flying around the room.

I've witnessed him getting grumpier and grumpier over the past few days, but he's never been this angry. I wonder if the current issue is something new or just a continuation of whatever's been bothering him. Suddenly, I feel a little guilty for not trying to talk to him.

"Are you okay," I ask cautiously.

"No, I am not okay!" he yells.

"What's wrong?"

"I am being placed in an impossible situation!"

"What situation? Maybe I can help."

He lets out a deep, throaty laugh. "No, you can't."

I gently touch his arm. "Gale, come on. It's me. You can talk to me."

He brushes me off and stalks out of the room. I'm worried this is the last time I'll see him. Whether I succeed or fail with my plan, I won't be able to return to District 12 or the Capitol. I knew I'd need to say goodbye to him, but I'm not ready yet. I still have ten hours until I have to go.

"Gale!" I yell after him. "Don't leave. Please spend the day with me!"

But he's already through the storeroom and pounding up the stairs to the bar. I'm surprised by the immediate sense of emptiness that washes over me when I realize this may be my last memory of him.

My fear is confirmed when the time comes for me to go and he has yet to return. I quickly scribble a note and try to suppress the loss I feel. With my all-consuming focus on revenge, I never really thought about how hard it would be to leave Gale.

_Gale,_

_I didn't plan on saying goodbye to you like this, but you left me no choice. You'll never know how much I have valued your friendship over the years. Without you, I'm not sure what would have happened to my family after the explosion in the mine. So, thank you for everything that you've done. _

_And I want you to know that I don't blame you for Prim's death. You loved her just as much as me, I realize that. Coin is responsible for what happened, not you. I'm sorry for the way I treated you—you didn't deserve that. _

_Hopefully our paths will cross again in the future, but if not, I want you to know how important you are and have always been to me. I'll miss you. _

_Yours,_

_Katniss_

I leave the note on the top of his bag and head out of the little room for the last time. I choke back a sob that is building in my throat. I know that I need to forget about Gale, forget about the Nationalists. I need to focus on my mission; anything else will be a distraction. A distraction I can't afford.

In the bar, I give Tallis a hug. By the look in his eyes, I can tell he knows something is about to change. "Be careful," he whispers into my ear. I nod and then walk to Cressida's office.

She meets me outside and then ushers me to the roof of her building, where a helicopter is already waiting, its rotors spinning. I buckle myself into a seat, and we begin the two-hour trip.


	24. Chapter 22

As we approach the destination, I hear the pilot's crackly voice in my headphones. "I'm going to circle around the arena. Pollux, when I give the sign, drop the box out the door. That will tell us whether or not the force field is up."

"What do we do if it's up?" I ask from the back seat.

"We go home," he says matter-of-factly.

"Katniss, you knew this was a possibility," Cressida says, turning around to lock eyes with me.

I nod. Of course I did. But now the stakes are higher—it's not just my revenge against Coin, it's the lives of millions. I can't tell Cressida that, though. Instead I look out the window anxiously, waiting to know our fate.

A few moments later, the pilot gives the signal, and Pollux drops the box. I hold my breath as I watch it float effortlessly through the sky. My hopes improve as the box gets closer to the ground, shrinking smaller and smaller. When it hits a treetop, I know we're safe. The force field would be well above the treeline.

The pilot echoes my thoughts, "Prepare for landing. We'll be on the ground in five minutes."

When I exit the helicopter, I'm immediately taken back to my 74th Hunger Games. The cornucopia still sits in the middle of the clearing. Even from a hundred yards away, I can see Cato's now rust-colored blood stains trailing down the edge. My eyes move beyond the cornucopia to the steep drop-off where Thresh staked his claim. I slowly turn my body and take in the woods. It looks exactly the same. When making this plan, I didn't really consider the emotional impact being back here would have on me. This place screams of Peeta.

I walk into the woods, touching the trees as I pass them. If I go further into the forest, will I see the charred remains of the fire that led me straight into the hands of the Careers? Will I see the Tracker Jacker nest I dropped on them? Will I see the ring of flowers I laid for Rue? I know I need to push these thoughts out of my mind. I have to focus on the mission. Any distraction could cause me to fail and allow Coin to incite the next World War.

I return to the helicopter and unload my bag. Cressida and Pollux are busy pulling various cases out of the storage compartment. When they're done, I expect the helicopter to leave, but it sticks around, the pilot talking to Cressida. I sit down in the clearing next to Pollux, enjoying the comfortable silence that he always provides.

After a few moments, Cressida joins us, and the pilot enters the cabin again. "Is he leaving now?" I ask.

"No, not yet. He wants to wait until after dark."

"Why?"

"Something about wind patterns. I'm not entirely sure."

I nod and lie back with my arms behind my head. Cressida pulls out a notebook and starts reviewing some hand-written notes. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, Katniss?"

I inwardly groan. Yes I mind, but this was the deal—she gets me here and I give her the story.

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

For the next hour, she peppers me with questions. When darkness falls, she finally relents, and we settle in for the night.

The troubled sleep I've endured since Peeta's death was nothing compared to this night, though. Being back in the arena brings the dreadful memories of the past to the forefront of my brain, mixing them with the events of the last week into one horrifying and muddled amalgam of excruciating visions. My screaming wakes me at least three different times. Each time, my clothes are soaked through with sweat and my heart is racing. And, unfortunately, waking up just lands me right in the middle of the real nightmare that is my life.

Early the next morning, none of us having slept very well, we're awakened by the loud whir of multiple helicopters descending from above. The three of us scamper under the cover of the trees and wait for the scene to unfold.

Hours later, everyone has arrived and filming is about to begin. I'm crouched in the woods, set back a few feet from the edge of the clearing. From my vantage point I can clearly see Coin, as well as her camera crew and four guards. About a hundred yards to my right is Pollux, posed similarly to me. Cressida is already in position.

One of the cameramen clips a microphone to Coin's lapel and then backs away while saying, "We're live in three… two… one… " He then points dramatically in her direction.

She immediately plasters a large smile across her face—a smile I've never seen from her before and one that looks foreign on such a rigid face.

"As you can see," she says motioning to the cornucopia behind her, "I'm in the 74th Hunger Games arena. These arenas are a sign of inequality, greed, and the most horrific acts we as a nation have ever been subjected to. Like I promised one week ago in response to the Mockinjay's inexorable speech to Panem, I pledge to abolish each of these arenas."

Coin glances to her left and frowns slightly. I follow her gaze and see the smoke. The guards also see it, and three of them dart in that direction to investigate, leaving only one guard for me to deal with. I smile—Cressida performed her role perfectly.

Regaining her poise, Coin continues, "I'm pleased to stand before you today and declare these arenas obsolete. One by one, we will destroy these symbols of innumerable and pointless deaths. Deaths that should never have happened. We've lost too many children the past seventy-five years! These are children who should be studying diligently in school, training with the military, or working hard for their districts. Children who should be helping our nation grow stronger!"

She is putting on such a show—giving the people exactly what they want to hear. But I know better. She doesn't care about the people of our country. Her only goal is to become even more powerful. And she'll do whatever it takes to reach that goal. Like manipulating people by telling them what they want to hear so they'll trust her. And then using that trust to twist and turn reality into her own personal distortion of right and wrong.

With one final flourish, Coin raises her arms, fists clenched, and says, "We are a unified nation, the strongest we've ever been, and no other nation can take that away from us! Remember, Panem, we will always be triumphant!"

Her words cause bile to rise up in my throat. She's already planning, calculating her next move; setting the stage for developing a rationale to proceed with her plan. First make the people start thinking about other counties. Then, convince them that an attack is imminent and we must take the offense. Any doubt I had about whether or not I could go through with this today is quickly quashed. I will do this for Peeta. For Prim. For Panem.

"That's a wrap," says the main cameraman, and then everyone starts moving around, packing up the equipment.

I look to Pollux and motion for him to start taping. I stand to get in a better position.

Coin is still in front of the cornucopia, her single guard about twenty feet away, talking to a young camerawoman with canary yellow hair. I know I need to deal with him first, but the woman is blocking my shot. I wait a few moments, but they continue talking. Then Coin starts walking towards the group. My chance is vanishing before my eyes.

I grab a rock and launch it with my bow into the cornucopia. It crashes against the side, and a loud metallic clank spreads throughout the arena. The guard is immediately at attention. He draws his gun and surveys the area, while Coin drops to the ground. The crew disperses, making their way back to the aircrafts.

I have to act now. I pull out an arrow and aim directly for the gun. With one smooth motion, I draw back on the string and send the arrow flying through the open space between us. It hits its mark perfectly, right through the hole of the trigger. The arrow thrusts the gun airborne and both land a good fifteen feet from the guard. Shock and fear register on his face.

Before he can retrieve the gun, I quickly reload my bow and aim low. It's a clean shot straight to his thigh, and he crumbles to the ground.

"Well, well, Katniss, you never fail to surprise me," Coin says, standing and slowly turning in a circle, obviously unaware of my location.

I walk out from the protection of the shadows and aim directly at her chest as I continue moving towards her.

Our eyes connect, and she smiles. "Now why would you want to hurt me? Look at all I'm doing for this country." She takes small, slow, deliberate steps backwards toward the cornucopia.

"You're doing nothing for this country. The districts are still in ruins, people are starving, and all you care about is expanding your reign!"

She shakes her head and makes her belittling tsking sounds. "You never did understand anything about politics. It's too bad Peeta's not here. I always thought he could be a very potent political force with the right training."

My eyes narrow reflexively, my lips curls into a snarl. "Yes, it's too bad that you killed him."

Coin has reached the mouth of the cornucopia. In one quick movement, she turns to her left and falls behind the edge of the opening, out of my line of sight.

I curse under my breath and circle wide to get the target lined up again. I see Pollux following my motion from the safety of the trees. When I'm in front of the opening, I find Coin running along the backside of the cornucopia, towards the guard's gun, which lies on the ground beyond the far edge of the large metal structure. Following her movement with my bow, I wait for her to stop, so I can take aim. When she bends down, I know I only have a moment to act. I draw in a deep breath to steady my arms. But she moves much faster than I anticipated. Within seconds she has the gun in her hands and is facing me again, an evil smirk on her face.

I quickly weigh my options. I can try to hit the gun, but if she fires first, I'll be dead and she'll survive. I can go for the kill, but a gun is quicker. As soon as I release the arrow, she'll fire. Of course, did I really ever plan on surviving this? No. I accepted that my life was over when I devised this plan.

I look down the sight and take another deep breath. I'll only have one chance; I have to make it count. My muscles tense as I anticipate the shot.

I blink one last time and when I open my eyes, I'm shocked by the scene in front of me. Coin is laying facedown in the grass, an arrow protruding from her back. Did I shoot her and not realize it? I look at my bow, but the arrow is still ready and loaded. I slowly scan the open area. Who else has a bow? The guard is bleeding profusely on the ground, trying to make a tourniquet; the camera crew is huddled together near their aircrafts. Cressida? Pollux? I turn to Pollux, but he's still holding the camera. My confusion must be apparent because he points to the left of me. I turn around and see a large figure rushing straight for me.

I raise my bow in his direction and aim for his chest, but before I can release the arrow, he's cursing at me.

"Dammit, Katniss. Put the bow down!"

I recognize the voice before I can make out the face. I lower my bow, but the anger I feel now is only slightly less than what I felt for Coin just seconds ago.

"How dare you, Gale! She was mine! I needed to kill her. How dare you do that to me!"

He's still running straight towards me at full speed. When he reaches my side, he grabs my arm and pulls me behind him, causing my arrow to fall to the ground.

"Stop it!" I scream, hitting him with my bow and slowing his progress slightly.

He turns to look at me with intense eyes. "We've got to get out of here. The other guards will be back soon."

As angry as I am with him, I have to admit he's right. I stop resisting and sprint with him towards the woods. We're just a few feet from the treeline when the three guards return to the clearing about two hundred yards to our right. It takes only moments for them to assess the situation and then they're chasing after us.

We break through the treeline and continue, although our progress is slowed by the underbrush. Gale pushes me in front of him. "Faster, Katniss!"

I pump my legs harder, trying to put as much distance between us and the guards as I can. But after a minute, I hear them. They've crossed into the woods and are snapping twigs as they come barrelling straight for us. There's no way we're going to outrun them—they're gaining every second.

I stop suddenly, causing Gale to run into me.

"Ugh," he grunts. "What are you doing?!"

"Up," I say breathlessly pointing to the large tree on our left. I rip off my cast and hope my arm is strong enough to climb the tree.

He glances back at the guards and must agree with my plan because he holds his hands out for me. I place my foot squarely in his palm and grab the overhead branch as he lifts me. I pull myself up, pleased that my arm doesn't hurt too much, and then watch him reach for the branch. The guards are closing in. They continue sprinting for us as Gale flexes his arms, but then one stops and aims for Gale's back with his gun.

"No!" I scream at the top of my lungs. The guard ignores me and presses the trigger, releasing a deafening sound. Gale's body lurches forward with the impact, but he doesn't fall. I reach down and grab the straps of a backpack he's wearing, pulling him into the tree. He collapses in the crook of the branch on top of me.

"Where are you shot?" I ask with panic, searching his body.

He rolls to the side, freeing my legs. "I'm fine. Keep climbing. We need to get higher."

I do as he says, checking behind me every few seconds to make sure he's following me. Once we're well above the ground, I pause briefly to watch the guards. They're close to the base of the tree, and it will only be moments before they're shooting at us. We need to put as much space and as many branches between us as we can. I reach to a limb above me, haul my body up, and then turn around to help Gale. He's turned slightly so I can see his side, where blood has soaked through his shirt and is dripping to the ground far beneath us now.

"Gale, you're hurt," I say.

"I'm fine. Go!" he yells. I reach down and help him climb to my branch before continuing upward. But my progress is suspended when a loud gunshot breaks the silence, causing bark to fly off the trunk not even a few feet from my head. Glancing down, I see the guards standing next to each other, aiming at us. I carefully leap from branch to branch to circle around the trunk, putting it between me and the guards. Gale follows, and we continue to climb higher.

As we move, the guards must reposition themselves because bullets are now coming at us from multiple directions. I stay close to the trunk and choose an upward route with plenty of branches to protect us.

"How are you feeling?" I yell down to Gale without slowing.

"I told you, I'm fine!"

"You're bleeding!"

"It's not serious!"

I doubt that by the amount of blood, but now is not the time to argue with him.

I place my boot on the next branch, ready to push myself higher when it explodes on me. One of the guards must have hit it perfectly, causing the entire limb to crumble. My body begins falling awkwardly, bouncing off the thick branches. I frantically clutch small leaf-covered twigs trying to find purchase on one of them in order to stop my downward plunge, but they just snap with my weight. My broken arm strikes a small branch and the pain shoots through me like an electric current. I scream out and twist my body, trying to better position myself to grab hold of something, anything with my good arm.

I'm vaguely aware of Gale moving gracefully like a wild animal accustomed to living in the treetops. And then, the next think I know, my freefall ceases. His hand has caught the back of my shirt. He's holding me steady with my limbs dangling carelessly in front of me.

"Quick—grab the branch I'm on!" he yells.

I'm staring straight down and confused. I can't tell where he is. I reach above my head blindly, but feel nothing other than pain in my broken arm. A bullet whizzes past my head and hits the tree trunk, not even five feet from me.

"To the left!"

I follow Gale's command, but still feel nothing. Another gunshot echoes through the forest.

"A little higher. Stretch Katniss!"

And then I hear a frightening sound as my body descends a couple inches. My shirt has started ripping in Gale's grasp.

"Hurry!" he yells at me anxiously.

I scramble with a renewed burst of energy. I arch my back and reach as far as my arm will go. Finally, I feel the welcomed roughness of bark. My fingertips grasp it for dear life and then I slowly work them higher and higher until my hand is wrapped around the sturdy branch. Twisting my body, I reach up with my other arm.

More gunshots sound and I feel splintered bark raining down on me when Gale says, "Hold on tight. I need to get a better grip on you."

He lets go of my shirt and slides his hands up the sides of my body until he's under my arms. Then he braces himself against the trunk and heaves me up to the branch he's on. I crumple on top of him, panting.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I say breathlessly, relaxing my tense muscles.

He raises an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing….,"he smirks, looking at my body resting on his lap. "I could sit like this all day, but there are armed guards down there intent on killing us. We should probably get moving."

I take a deep breath and then push off Gale's chest to a standing position once more. My freefall took down a lot of the leaf cover we had so I quickly determine a new route and start climbing. Within a few minutes, I notice that the gunshots are all landing well below us. I pause a moment and glance at Gale.

"Do you think we're high enough?"

"Yes, nothing's come within ten feet of me for a while now. Let's find a good place to rest."

I spot two wide and close branches radiating from the tree just a few feet above us. We quickly make our way there and then settle into our safe haven, sitting on one branch with our feet on the other.

I rest my head against the tree's trunk and take a few deep breaths. Gale touches my temple, causing me to jump.

"Sorry," he says. "You're bleeding. Let me wash that out for you."

"It's just a scrape. You're the one who's been shot. Let's start with that."

He turns to the side, so I can see the blood soaking through his shirt. I swallow and nervously reach for the material. It is times like this when I really need my mother or Prim. I am not cut out for blood and gore.

"How bad is it?" he asks.

"Umm… I'm not sure yet. There's a lot of blood, though."

I tentatively reach for the material and pull it away from his body. It's tattered, presumably from the bullet entering and hopefully exiting. I'm debating whether to rip the shirt open from the tattered area or pull it up when he sighs loudly.

"Do you think we can do this today, Katniss? It's only a matter of time before the guards start climbing."

I scowl even though he can't see me, and then ease the shirt up from his waist. He tenses.

"Does that hurt?" I ask with concern.

"Uh, no."

"You're clenching every muscle in your body."

He gulps. "It's not every day a girl undresses me."

I reflexively blush and am thankful he's looking the other way. I continue sliding his shirt up until I'm just under his ribs. I see raw flesh, but it's hard to ascertain the amount of damage with all the blood.

"There's water in the backpack," he says, as if reading my thoughts.

I reach for the backpack he's left in the crook of the tree, when a new and terrifying sound stops me cold.

Gale's on his feet immediately. "What the hell…?"

I instinctively know the sound. It's a sound that has haunted my dreams for the past two years. I cover my mouth with my hand and tilt my head to the sky. "Welcome to the Hunger Games, Gale. There's no way they'll let us leave this arena alive."


	25. Chapter 23

One of the guards had just started climbing the tree when the incredible noise reverberated throughout the arena. He turns back to his colleagues, looking for direction. They motion for him to continue, and one of them steps away from the tree to investigate.

"Katniss, what's that sound?" Gale asks again.

"Mutts," I say simply, and I'm taken back to the Games. It's the same high-pitched yipping sound the wolf mutts with tribute eyes made when they were communicating with each other, intent on tearing us apart limb by limb.

"Can they climb?"

"They couldn't climb the cornucopia, but I think that's because it was metal and their paws slipped off. They may be able to climb a tree," I acknowledge, fear slipping into my voice.

I give Gale his bow and begin counting our arrows. We only have nine left between the two of us.

"Use these sparingly," I say, handing him his quiver.

"How many mutts do think there are?"

"More than nine."

He nods, fully understanding the dire situation we're in. We wait, alternating our gaze between the woods where the yipping sounds are increasing in intensity by the second and the guard climbing up the tree, approaching us quicker than we thought possible.

My fear suddenly evaporates and is replaced by guilt. Yet another person I love will die because of me.

"Gale, why did you come here. You should be in the Capitol. This was my battle."

He's on-edge, tense, preparing for the impending combat. He still thinks we might survive.

"You know, most people would say 'Gee, thanks for saving my life, Gale,' but not you. You have to turn everything into a fight." He continues scanning the forest.

"I could have killed her," I say defiantly.

"Probably. But she would have killed you in the process." He shifts his position, possibly eyeing something in the distance.

"So you risked your life to save me, only to leave us both in the hands of merciless mutts that will make our last few moments of life a living hell."

"I don't plan on dying. And it would be nice if you didn't give up so easily," he spits out at me.

His eyes dart to the guard who is not far beneath us now. He raises his bow and aims for the guard's chest.

"No, not his chest!" I scream. "There's been enough death already."

"He's trying to kill us!" Gale yells back with equal fervor.

"He's just following orders. He doesn't know who Coin was. Please Gale, a non-lethal wound."

He grunts, but shifts his aim lower and hits the guard squarely in the thigh, as I had done earlier with the other guard in the clearing. The shot knocks the guard off balance and he stumbles from his perch, but quickly catches himself on an adjacent limb. He pulls the arrow out of his leg and begins tending to the wound.

"Happy?" Gale asks, scowling at me.

I never have time to answer, though. The noises surrounding us become earsplitting; the yipping is now mixed with the thunderous rhythmic resonance of massive legs pounding on the ground in a unified gallop. The guard who ventured into the woods to investigate is sprinting towards us, fear contorting the features of his face. Behind him is the pack of wolf mutts. They cover the distance to us in mere seconds. The other guard on the ground begins screaming and runs back towards the clearing with his partner. Six mutts follow them, leaving four at the base of our tree. One begins climbing towards us, deftly hopping from branch to branch at an unbelievable pace.

I take aim, but its eyes meet mine. Sadness overwhelms me—they look like Rue's eyes. Of course they would use Rue to kill me.

"Shoot it!" Gale yells from behind me.

I release the arrow, but the mutt quickly ducks behind the trunk, easily avoiding injury. It then moves along branches in the other direction, approaching the guard below us.

The guard kneels on his good leg, leaving the other one extended at an awkward angle. Raising his weapon, he shoots at the mutt, hitting it in the shoulder. The hit does nothing to slow it down, though. The mutt lunges for the guard and bites into his arm, causing him to cry out and drop the gun. He pounds on the mutt with his other arm without effect. The mutt turns around and begins descending the tree, dragging the guard with it the entire way.

Just then, we hear more gunshots. We shift our gaze to the other guards who have reached the clearing. They've stopped running and are now pointing their weapons at the mutts. They begin unleashing a firestorm of gunshots. Miraculously, one mutt actually goes down. Even from this distance, we can see the determination on the guards' faces. They think they can win.

I focus back on the four mutts at our tree. The one with the guard has reached the ground. Why is it dragging the guard, rather than killing him? This is not the behavior I expected.

My muscles flex as I anticipate another mutt climbing the tree for us. Gale and I raise our bows, ready to defend ourselves, but then the unexpected happens. The four mutts gallop toward their pack mates in the clearing. Our tree is no longer under siege by either mutts or guards.

We stare at the scene unfolding before us, completely baffled. The four mutts meet the larger group. The guard from our tree is dropped on the ground; he scurries backwards under the protective gunfire of his colleagues. Another mutt falls to the ground. Now it's down to eight mutts against three guards. But the mutts don't attack the guards. They just stand there, keeping the guards in the clearing. It's almost like they're trying to help us…

"Let's go!" I yell at Gale.

We rapidly descend the tree. I lower myself to the ground and quickly draw back an arrow, not quite ready to believe the mutts won't attack us. Gale follows suit. For at least a minute, we stand poised, waiting for the thunderous footfalls to approach, but none do. I'm still contemplating the strange turn of events, when Gales reaches into the backpack and pulls out a compass.

"We need to get out of this arena," he says, making note of our direction. Then he grabs my hand and starts jogging deeper into the woods, the very direction I took the first day of the Games. We keep glancing behind us every few seconds, expecting either guards or mutts, but, unbelievably, we seem to be alone.

About an hour later, Gale finally slows. He stops by a fallen tree and lowers the backpack. Unzipping the bag, he pulls out a water bottle and holds it in my direction.

"Thirsty?"

I nod and greedily take it from his hands, but stop myself before taking a drink. "We should clean your wound first," I say, nodding to the thick cake of blood coating his shirt.

"I'm fine. We'll deal with that when we're out of here."

I purse my lips, but say nothing. I suppose he is fine since he had no problem running for an hour, but I can't help but worry there might be significant damage with all that blood.

I tip the bottle to my lips; the cool water soothes the burning in my throat. I down half the bottle and hand it back to Gale, feeling guilty for drinking so much. He swallows the rest in three long gulps and then pulls out the compass again.

Watching him with the compass and seeing his backpack and all the essentials it contains, I suddenly feel grossly unprepared. I absently rub my now throbbing broken arm, while I think about the meager supplies I brought with me—a few warm clothes and a water bottle—which are still in the clearing. I guess that is just another indication of how I anticipated this would all turn out.

Gale pockets the compass, reaches into the backpack, and pulls out my cast. He must have picked that up while we were at the base of the tree, waiting to see if the mutts would return for us.

He hands me the cast. "Looks like you could use this," he says, eyeing the black and blue marks that have started forming.

I thank him and quickly clip it over my arm.

"Ready?" he asks.

I nod. Gale keeps a slightly slower pace this time, so I'm able to actually think about other things as we make our way through the woods. Like how he ended up here. When did he arrive to the arena? How did he know I would be here? And why did he come? Do the Nationalists know he's here? I desperately want to ask him these questions, but not here where they are undoubtedly listening.

Instead I focus on the best thing that has happened today. Actually, the best thing that has happened in the past week. Coin is dead. Even though I'm still incredibly angry with Gale for killing her, at least we finally got our revenge for Prim and Peeta, and the horrific plans she had for our country. Even if we don't make it out of here alive, that was completely worth it. A satisfied smile spreads across my face.

After a few more miles, the setting begins to change. The fresh, clean scent of the forest gives way to a pungent, sulfuric odor. The gentle fluttering of the lively green canopy becomes stagnant black pillars beckoning to clear blue skies above. We've entered the area of the fire. The destruction is impressive—every tree has been completely charred, not a single piece of normal bark remains. The ground is littered with branches from the large trees, occasionally interrupted by a seedling rising no higher than my knees. The only other source of life is small ferns growing in the shadows of the downed limbs. I involuntarily shiver as I remember the fireballs that were hurled at me and the severe burn that I sustained.

Gale glances at me out of the corner of his eye, no doubt remembering this scene play out on television. "You okay?"

"Yes, let's just get out of here," I answer, picking up our pace again. But we only run for a few minutes before I hear the faint electric hum that I became so attuned to in the Quarter Quell.

"Stop!" I yell, grabbing Gale by the back of his shirt.

"What?" he asks, startled.

"We're at the edge. The force field is up."

"How do you know?"

I lift a small rock from the ground and throw it towards the humming sound. It hits an invisible wall, throwing off sparks and bouncing back to us.

"Well, that's unexpected," he says, furrowing his brow.


	26. Chapter 24

**A/N: Sorry, but this is a short chapter. And it's not terribly exciting because it's really serving as a transition to the next phase of the story. You'll get a glimpse into the Paylor/Gale drama here, but don't worry, more will be revealed later on :) My plan is to post the next chapter first thing in the morning since this one is kind of underwhelming. Thanks again for your continued support and encouragement! **

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I continue staring at the invisible wall. We're so close to freedom—I can almost reach out and touch it. Gale and I look at each other, panic in our eyes.

"If I had some wire and lightning, I could take it out," I mumble, as I begin pacing.

He gazes up to the cloudless sky and says, "I think the guards will be here long before lightning." Then he slides back his shirtsleeve and raises his wrist, complete with communicuff, to his mouth. "If anybody's out there, we could use a little help. Target is in sight, but inaccessible."

And like magic, the humming stops. I pick up a rock and lob it in front of me. This time it goes straight through and lands with a thunk on the soft grass beyond. I grab Gale's hand and pull him over the threshold. As soon as we're through, we hear a loud zapping sound and then the humming begins again. I pick up the same rock I just threw and toss it in the direction we came from; this time it bounces back to me. The force field is up and running again.

"Who exactly were you talking to?" I ask.

Gale shrugs. "I'm not sure. The only person I told about this plan was Haymitch. But I just broadcasted that out to all the Nationalists."

"So someone must be in the control room. It has to be the same person who used the mutts to help us escape from the guards."

Gale nods and begins walking towards a river that lies a few yards in front of us.

I follow behind him. "There's only one person who knows how to do that."

We both say his name at the same time. "Plutarch."

"Haymitch must have asked for his help," I say, stopping at the water's edge. "But I can't believe Plutarch would be willing to risk so much just for us."

Gale grins and leans down to unlace his boots. "I can. He always had a soft spot in his heart for you."

I blush. "Please. I drove him crazy. The annoying mascot with a multitude of demands and no real skills to advance his agenda."

Gale shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "No one ever thought that." He removes his boots and socks and ties them to the backpack. Stepping into the water, he unbuckles the communicuff and then picks up a large rock from the stream. Placing the communicuff in the water, he covers it with the rock and says, "We are officially off the grid now. Time to disappear into nothing."

He reaches his hand out to me. "Are you ready to become nonexistent?"

I stare at him, unbelieving. Not only is Coin dead, but we escaped the arena alive and Gale thinks we can just disappear.

"Gale, they're going to find us. We assassinated the President! They'll either kill us on the spot or haul us off to prison."

"They have to catch us first," he says with a wink. "Since it will probably be quite a while before they even realize we've escaped the arena, we should get a significant head start. We'll walk in the water so there won't be a trail."

"They'll know we're following the river!"

"But the river has multiple branches. They won't be able to follow every possibility. Eventually, they'll lose interest and assume we died out here."

Could this really work? Can we just walk away from here and never have to face any of this mess again? Never step foot in the Capitol again? Never see Paylor or listen to her plans for the Nationalists? That thought stops me in my tracks. That was Gale's future.

"What about your role with the Nationalists?" I ask quietly.

He sighs. "Come on, let's go. We can talk as we walk."

I start towards him, but then notice his bloodied shirt. "No, first we need to clean your wound and make sure you don't have a bullet in your side."

I remove my boots and socks, attach them to the backpack like Gale did moments ago, and then join him in the water. He sits on a rock, lifting his arm to give me access to the injured area. I try raising his shirt like I did earlier, but it doesn't move. The blood has glued it firmly to his side.

I scoop up some cool river water in my hands and let it flow over his side. Working delicately, I use the water to help ease up small sections at time, wary of how much it must hurt him.

"Seriously, we don't have forever. Just pull it off!" he says.

"It's going to hurt!"

"I'm a big boy, Katniss."

I pull a little harder, cringing as it tugs on his skin. Suddenly, he reaches down and grabs his shirt from around my hand. He yanks it hard, freeing it from his skin and the wound beneath. The effect is instantaneous—he jumps up screaming and hops from one foot to the other, causing water to splash around us. He removes his shirt and covers the gaping wound with his hand. Fresh blood begins flowing down his side and into the river.

I stand back and watch him, satisfied. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me."

"Not likely," he says through gritted teeth.

He kneels down in the river so the water runs over the wound, cleaning it out. The cool water must also ease the pain because, after a few moments, his face relaxes. He then stands so we can assess the damage. Surprisingly, it's not too bad. It looks like the bullet grazed his side, leaving an open gash along its path, but never actually entered his body.

I wade back to the shore and unzip the backpack. "Do you have any antibiotics in here?" I ask.

"Yeah, there should be some ointment."

I rummage through the contents, amazed again at how prepared Gale is and how unprepared I was. He's got iodine, matches, burn cream, gauze, bandages, some spare clothes, knives, ropes, flashlights, and tarps, not to mention a tent and sleeping bag strapped to the outside. I pick out the antibiotic ointment, some gauze, and a bandage, and then return to Gale's side.

Pulling around the edges of the gash, I can see that it's not even very deep. I use his shirt to dry the wound and then rub some of the ointment on it. I quickly apply the gauze and bandage and then return the ointment container to the backpack before pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him.

"Okay, are we finally ready to move?" he asks, joining me at the bank.

I nod and pick up the backpack, but he grabs it from my hands before I can put my arms through the straps.

"It's my turn to carry it," I say.

"You can carry it tomorrow."

And with that, we take the first steps of our trek to freedom. The water is up to my knees, but the ground is mostly sand with a few small pebbles so it's easy to navigate. As I watch small fish dart out of our way, I reflect on the turn of events. I'm completely shocked by how this day turned out. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Gale to be by my side through all of this. Of course, while his presence is comforting, I can't help but feel guilty.

After a few minutes, I decide to bring up the conversation from earlier. "So, your role with the Nationalists…"

"I think it's unlikely I have a role with them anymore."

"Why?"

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Because, as you so bluntly said, I assassinated our President. Even if everything comes out about Coin, the Nationalists aren't going to want someone who appears so heartless and cavalier on their side. It's not good for their image."

I cringe at his words. That was his future. That was what he wanted to do.

After a few moments of walking in silence, he continues. "Plus Paylor gave me an ultimatum. She said either I needed to show up last night to help her or she would seriously doubt my loyalty to the party."

"You didn't help her?"

"Well, since I can't be in two places at once, no."

I stop walking at stare at him. "You were here last night? You came with us?"

He laughs and grabs my arm to keep us moving. "Yes. How did you think I got here? Walked the 200 miles from the Capitol?"

"But how did you know?"

"You just need to accept the fact that I'm always one step ahead of you, Catnip."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously. Did you follow me?"

"Last night, no. I was loaded into the helicopter well before you."

The river has become deeper—up to my thighs now—and the ground beneath us has changed. I have to focus on keeping my balance as my feet slide across and between slick rocks lining the riverbed. Between steps, I say, "But you did follow me at some point?"

"Yes. A few nights ago when you claimed to be helping Tallis upstairs. I saw you talking to Cressida."

"And she just gave away my whole plan?" I ask incredulously.

"As hard as it is for you to believe, everyone wants you to survive," Gale says, moving through the water more gracefully than me. "So, this little suicide mission of yours didn't go over so well with Cressida. Even before I called, she was planning on telling someone. Maybe Plutarch."

I groan.

"Exactly. You should be thrilled it was me. I allowed you to carry out your absolutely foolish idea, saved your life, and am now helping you fade away forever. Plutarch would have locked you up or shipped you off to District 13 until everything died down."

He's right. I am lucky. But why did he do it? I sigh because deep down I know exactly why, and it breaks my heart. He gave up everything for me. But I'll never be able to give him what he wants. He deserves so much better. Someone who will love him unconditionally, someone with less emotional turmoil, someone who can look at him without automatically feeling immense guilt.


	27. Chapter 25

**A/N: Sorry, this ended up taking me a little longer than an I anticipated. But I think this has a bit of what some of you have been waiting for :) That's just a hunch, so let me know if I'm right or not!**

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Thirty hours later, as the sun dips below the horizon on our second night of freedom, we finally feel like we've put enough distance between ourselves and the arena that we can leave the river. Until this point, we've walked nonstop, mostly in silence, snacking only on the small amount of food Gale brought with him from the Capitol. I'm exhausted, cold, and hungry.

As I step out of the water, I can't help but feel a bit of trepidation, though. Are we really far enough away? Of course, we haven't seen or heard any sign of human life since last night. And even then, all we saw was a flurry of helicopter activity, both coming and going to the area around the arena. Never did an aircraft circle above the forest as though people were searching for us. It makes me wonder if someone is still helping us, amid the chaos that must be ensuring within the Capitol.

Gale seems to have no second thoughts about stopping. He begins pitching the tent, so I head off to find us a quick meal. Within a few minutes, I've caught a rabbit. It's not much, but I'm too tired to look for anything else. I return to the campsite to find a small fire and Gale adding iodine drops to a bottle of water. It's nice having him as my partner here—we work so well together, dividing tasks without even speaking. I can only imagine how much easier the Games would have been with him by my side. But I quickly banish that thought because it's not fair to Peeta.

After our meager dinner, we extinguish the fire and move into the tent. Spending all that time in the cool river left me with a damp chill deep in my bones. The fire suppressed it momentarily, but it returns with a vengeance now that we're surrounded by the cold evening air. Gale unzips the sleeping bag and lays it on top of me, but I shiver nonetheless. "Thank you," I say, my teeth chattering.

"Don't get mad," he says.

"Wh—what?" I ask between shivers.

He slides his body next to mine, his chest against my back, and wraps his arm around my waist. "You're freezing. This is purely to prevent hypothermia. I am gaining no personal pleasure from this whatsoever," he says.

I'm pretty sure that's not true, but I don't push him away—he's right, I am freezing. The warmth of his body slowly seeps into mine, allowing my muscles to relax. In no time, the shivering has stopped and my exhaustion begins to take over. Right before my eyes close, I remember to pull out the picture of me and Peeta for my nighttime ritual. I hold it to my face and allow a few tears to spill down my cheeks before I return it to my pocket for safe keeping.

The next morning, I awake feeling completely refreshed. I don't recall a single nightmare or even waking up once during the night. I haven't slept that well in a week—not since the last night Peeta was alive. I consider that thought, trying to make sense of it. I believed Peeta was the only one who could stop my nightmares. But what if any warm body will do? What if it wasn't specifically Peeta? That notion fills me with sorrow, and I immediately feel guilty for having Gale so close. He's snoring lightly, his arm still hugging my waist.

I push his arm off and slide away, waking him up in the process. He blinks a couple times, clearly confused as to where he is. But, by the smirk that appears on his face, I can tell he quickly put everything together.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," he says, stretching his arms above his head.

"Good morning," I reply stiffly, sitting up.

He turns towards me. "So, I'd say it's a pretty safe bet we successfully evaded any Capitol guards. We are now free to go wherever we want. What's your preference?"

I shrug. We hadn't planned this far ahead. Are Gale and I really going to live in the woods for the rest of our lives? Live as best friends in the woods for the rest of our lives? The absurdity of this situation is becoming more and more obvious as reality sets in.

"Gale, what's the long-term plan?" I blurt out.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asks with a sparkle in his eye.

"We're just two friends who are going to live in the woods together… forever?"

"Friends," he rolls the word around on his tongue like it has a bad taste. "That's one way to go."

Panic grips me. "No. Gale. Don't tell me you gave up everything to save my life, then dragged me into the woods, and now expect something more from me. Something you know I can't give you."

"First of all, I didn't drag you out here," he says, sitting up next to me. "This was part of 'saving your life.' And as I recall, you were a pretty willing participant. Maybe having bullets flying at your head gave you some clarity." His voice is starting to rise.

"This isn't going to work," I say, shaking my head.

"What do you propose then?"

I clench my jaw and fold my arms over my chest. "We go our separate ways."

"You'd rather have a sad, lonely existence all by yourself than have me by your side? You must really despise me." A mixture of pain and anger registers on his face as he begins rolling up the sleeping bag.

I take a deep breath and choose my words carefully. "You know I don't despise you. You're a good friend. My best friend. But, I don't think that's what you want. I know how this will end, Gale. I'll hurt you. I don't want to do that."

"Look, I'm not expecting anything from you," he says, jamming his left foot into his boot, much more violently than is required. "I did this because I was worried you were going to die in the arena. I wasn't willing to accept that. End of story."

I purse my lips. It would be great if what he says is true, but I have some serious doubts about his level of honesty right now.

"Besides," he continues, "There's the chance we won't have to live in hiding forever."

"You want to stroll back to 12 and see if we just can blend in?" I ask sarcastically.

"Haymitch and I have a deal," he says, lacing up his boot. "If things ever change such that we can return, he'll leave us a note in the cabin by the pond outside of District 12."

"Well that's kind of an important detail," I raise my voice now. "When were you going to share that with me?!"

"I just did!"

I narrow my eyes. "What other plans or deals do you have worked out?!" I shout at him.

He meets my angry stare with equal ire. "You need to calm down. I think you're losing sight of that fact that you got your revenge on Coin and I SAVED YOUR LIFE! You should be happy right now! Or is that part of _your_ plan—to be miserable until the day you die?!"

I storm out of the tent, unable to deal with him anymore. After donning my boots and grabbing my bow, I head into the woods. I need some space from Gale and some time to think.

I loudly stomp through the underbrush, effectively scaring off any prey. Who does he think he is? He spied on me back in the Capitol and then followed me here and started calling all the shots. I didn't ask for his help and I didn't need it. This was between me and Coin. He even took that brief moment of satisfaction from me. That moment when she realized she was going to die at my hands. I huff loudly and take out my annoyance on a nearby tree, kicking it hard enough to dislodge a large piece of bark. After a few more kicks for good measure, I sink to the ground to catch my breath.

My aggression towards the tree did the trick, and I feel my anger begin to fade slightly. I groan loudly as reality sinks in. Gale and I are in the middle of the woods—we'll need to rely on each other to stay alive. But we're going to have to come to an agreement for this to work. I rest my bow against my leg and run my fingers through my hair. Taking deep, cleansing breaths, I eventually lower my blood pressure and unclench my muscles.

Standing, I pick up my bow and head farther into the woods, as stealthy as usual now. Focusing all of my attention on hunting is exactly what I need. It clears my head and relaxes my body. After killing two squirrels and a wild turkey, I revisit my current situation with Gale, this time with a level head. He does have a point. I have yet to thank him for saving my life. And as annoyed as I am that he screwed up my plans, his interference led to the outcome I desired, while keeping me alive. But we're really going to have to work through our relationship issues. He needs to understand that I am not looking for that now or probably ever. My heart belongs to Peeta, and I will never be able to get over what happened.

When I get back to the campsite, Gale is sitting in front of a crackling fire, boiling water. A sweet aroma wafts through the air. I peer into the pot and see mint leaves floating inside.

"Shall we start this morning over?" he asks, peering up at me from his spot on the ground.

I nod with a small smile and drop my catch. "Thank you for saving my life, Gale. And for killing Coin. You knew how important that was to me even though I never told you."

"Now was that so hard?"

"Don't make me take it back," I say, lowering myself next to him.

He smiles. "You're welcome. Want some tea?"

"Yes, please. Turkey or squirrel for breakfast?" I ask, pointing to the game lying next to me.

"Turkey."

After our bellies are full, we sit in front of the fire deciding what to do.

"I'm thinking maybe we should head towards District 12. We can stay in the cabin, so we'll be close to home. Maybe we can even sneak in and talk to Haymitch," he says.

I nod. "That's a good plan. I don't like the idea of being so out of touch with what's going on in the country." I take a deep breath, uncomfortable with what I know I need to tell him.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at me expectedly.

"My heart is broken," I say, dropping my eyes to the ground as blood rushes into my cheeks.

"I know."

"I doubt it will ever heal."

"I can understand why you'd think that right now."

"You don't believe it?" I ask, meeting his eyes.

He shrugs. "Life is unpredictable. I have no idea what's going to happen to us in the next hour, let alone 10 years from now."

"I don't want you to expect something from me."

"I don't," he says with a smile.

"You promise?"

"Yes... I'm hopeful, but I don't expect anything."

I groan. "Please don't be hopeful either."

"Ok, I'm not hopeful," he says with a laugh.

"You're lying."

"Yes."

I tug on my braid and furrow my brows as I analyze our conversation. He knows where I stand and he's not expecting anything from me, although he's hopeful something might develop between us. I'm not pleased with the last part, but this is better than our conversation could have gone.

"Hey," he says interrupting my thoughts. "I'm not going to pressure you. If you're not interested, you're not interested. I have to accept that. If you change your mind, I'm sure you'll let me know," he adds with a smirk.

I take a deep breath and slowly say, "Okay."

"Shall we get going?"

We take our time packing up our gear and set out on a leisurely pace, heading east. The mood is better than the last two days. We're not as anxious about guards finding us, and our fight this morning forced us to work through some of our issues.

In late afternoon, we find a nice flat area to camp. After eating a dinner of leftover turkey and squirrel, we settle in for the night. It's significantly warmer than last night so I push the sleeping bag off of me. Gale has removed his shirt and is lying on his back a few feet away. Self-conscious, I turn on my side and slide the picture of me and Peeta out, kiss it lightly, and then tuck it back away.

"What's on that piece of paper?"

I cringe—he saw me.

"Nothing."

"Then why do you kiss it every night?"

"I don't."

"Every night we've slept for the past week you have."

Why does he pay such close attention to me? "It's none of your business."

"Did Peeta give it to you?"

"No."

"Hmmm… I don't believe you. Is it a love note?"

"No."

"His family recipe for cheese buns."

I smile unexpectedly. "No. Although that would be good, too."

"The secret to world peace?"

I chuckle. "If it were, I would've left it with Paylor."

He laughs. "Good night, Catnip." He sounds happy, relaxed, very much like the Gale I knew from long ago. Not the one I've been fighting with the past two years.

"Good night, Gale."

I fall asleep within minutes, but unfortunately, it doesn't last long. My recurrent nightmare of a mutt version of Coin invading our rooftop sanctuary at the Training Center and tearing off Peeta's head sends me into a screaming frenzy. I wake breathless, my heart racing.

"Doin' alright?" Gale asks casually from beside me.

"Yes," I pant. I take a few deep breaths to try and slow my irregular heart rate. All of my muscles are tense and a cold sweat is coating my forehead. I stare straight ahead into the blackness, afraid of what I'll see if I close my eyes. I know it's going to be a really long night.

Over an hour later, I'm still staring into the darkness, and my heart is still beating erratically. Gale's breathing has slowed, letting me know he's fallen back asleep. I feel his warm breath brush against the back of my neck every time he exhales. He's only a few feet behind me. A few feet are what keep me from a peaceful night of sleep. I try to carefully weigh my options, but the fear of another nightmare takes precedent. Without further contemplation, I scoot my body backwards so I can feel the heat of his body on mine. The effect is immediate—my whole body relaxes. As my eyes fall shut, I tell myself I'll move away before he wakes up in the morning.


	28. Chapter 26

The next thing I know, birds are singing loudly and sunlight bathes my face through the window of the tent. I'm surprised by how I feel this morning—relaxed and somewhat peaceful. Nothing like I've felt the past week or so. I smile, enjoying the warmth on my skin, the familiar and joyful din of the forest, and my refreshed feeling. I roll onto my back, but elbow something hard right next to me in the process.

"Hmpf…," Gale groans, rubbing his forehead. His eyes blink open, and he stares at me.

I immediately scamper backwards, away from him. Of course—now I remember why I slept so well. He continues rubbing his forehead, but says nothing. Not even a snide comment. I decide to escape while I can to avoid the inevitable uncomfortable discussion.

A few minutes later, I've got a fire going and Gale emerges from the tent yawning and stretching his arms above his head. I tense, wary of what he's going to say about waking up with me pressed against his body.

Instead he heads off into the woods in search of breakfast ensnared in one of the traps he set last night. Why is he not saying anything? Maybe he's worried he rolled next to me during the night and I'm angry with him. Or maybe he thinks I changed my mind and this is me showing interest in him. I groan. Why does a good night of sleep have to be tied to so much confusion?

In no time, Gale returns with two rabbits. He skins them and places them over the hot coals before addressing me for the first time this morning.

"How's rabbit sound for breakfast?"

"Fine," I say slowly, waiting for what's next. But it's not what I expect.

"There's an old trail about 400 feet behind us. It's pretty overgrown, but easier to move through than this," he says, gesturing to the woods around us. "It seems to head east for a while at least. What do you think about following that?"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever," I respond, still expecting him to say something about our close proximity this morning.

After a few moments of silence, he says, "So, how long do you think it will take us to get to District 12?"

I shrug. "How far it is?"

"Over a thousand miles."

My mouth drops open. I knew it was far, but that is more than I thought.

When I say nothing, he continues, "I'd love to get there before the first snow hits. This tent isn't going to be much protection then. We really should be in the cabin."

"We need to make it there in about three months, then."

He nods and furrows his brow, deep in concentration. Finally, he says, "That should be doable. If we walk fifteen to twenty miles a day, we'll make it. Maybe even get there a little early."

A few minutes later, Gale has started packing up our gear, so I stand to help him. Once we're fully loaded, I grab the backpack from the ground and start to slide my arms through the straps, but he tries to snatch it from my hands.

Refusing to let go, I maintain my hold and say, "Gale, seriously, I haven't carried it once yet. It's my turn."

"You can have it tomorrow."

"You've said that the past three days!"

He shrugs and starts to put his left arm through the strap, but I pull the bag towards me. "Give it to me," I say, a little more loudly.

He lets go, but shakes his head. "It's really heavy, Katniss."

"Have you forgotten that I'm a Hunger Games Victor? I think I can manage to carry a backpack," I say with a roll of my eyes.

He holds up his hands in defeat. "Fine. It's all yours."

I hoist it onto my back and stumble backwards slightly as the weight alters my center of gravity. Gale stifles a laugh. He's right—it is heavy. But it's nothing I can't manage.

"You ready?" I ask.

"Lead the way, Victor," he says with a chuckle.

After the first hour, I'm thankful we're on the old trail. The ground is much more even than what we've been walking through, and we only occasionally have to climb over fallen trees and decaying logs. Whenever we reach one of those, Gale gracefully hops over it, while I struggle to haul myself up, drape one leg over it, and then pull the other one forward. The weight of the backpack is taking its toll, but I refuse to let Gale know that.

Another hour later, I know I'm slowing down. My legs burn, I'm drenched in sweat, and I'm breathing heavily while Gale leisurely strolls down the trail in front of me.

"You alright back there, Victor?" he yells to me.

"Fine," I shout back with more intensity than the situation merits.

He jogs back to my side and opens one of the zippers. Handing me the water bottle, he says, "Looks like you could use a drink."

I stop momentarily and take the bottle from him, draining it completely in four long gulps, not even caring that he doesn't get any.

"Thanks for saving me some," he says, turning the empty bottle upside down.

I ignore him and start walking again. He stays next to me now, but I wish he'd run ahead so he wouldn't see how winded I'm becoming. I have no such luck, though. He maintains his position right by my side the rest of the day, smirking at my strenuous effort, but not offering to carry the backpack. When we finally select a campsite for the night, I collapse. I'm not sure my muscles have ever been this sore. I don't have the energy to hunt down dinner. In fact, I don't even have the energy to eat, so I just crawl into the tent and immediately feel myself drift away.

Sometime in the middle of the night, the horrific dreams come and I wake up screaming again. I hear Gale stir, but he says nothing. I take deep breaths and try to ease myself back to sleep, but it doesn't work. Even with my severe exhaustion, the fear is too overwhelming. Eventually Gale begins snoring, and I don't give a second thought to curling up beside him. His arm drapes over my waist, and I'm temporarily concerned he woke up, but the snoring continues. My eyelids become heavy and the sweet serenity of a peaceful sleep overtakes me.

In the morning, the uncomfortable situation from the day before presents itself again, as I wake to find Gale staring at me, his arm still around my waist. He says nothing and neither do I. Instead, we get up, busy ourselves with breakfast, and then pack our gear, talking only when needed.

The fully loaded backpack lies on the ground with Gale and me both looking at it. He raises his eyebrows, offering it to me again. I turn my back on it, becoming suddenly interested in making sure the fire is completely out, effectively giving it to him.

"Not feeing so victorious today, huh?" he says with a grin.

I ignore him and start walking along the old trail.

He catches up with me easily. "Why can't you just admit there are some things I'm better at than you? Like carrying heavy things?"

I narrow my eyes, but remain silent.

"What? There are plenty of things you're better at than me. Like sewing, and cooking, and keeping our tent nice and clean."

I pause and glare at him, but he's already laughing.

"Come on, you know I'm kidding. I'm a way better cook than you!"

"You can be so annoying, Gale Hawthorne," I say and walk ahead of him.

"Right back at ya, Katniss Everdeen!"

From there, our days begin to fall into a pattern. We always rise with the sun and after a quick breakfast, hike for three hours before stopping briefly for lunch. We then hike for another four hours and find a campsite for the evening. Gale pitches the tent and gets the fire started while I hunt for dinner. I clean the catch and he cooks it. Overall, we make a pretty good and efficient team, each of us taking the roles we're best at.

And during the nights, I inevitably crawl into Gale's arms. Initially, it only happened after a nightmare, but as days go by, I turn to him earlier and earlier. Eventually, I avoid the bad dreams altogether by snuggling against him as soon as he falls asleep. In the mornings, I pull away and neither of us says anything. It works great for me, although I'm well aware of the mixed message my actions might be sending Gale. Luckily, he doesn't appear to be making too much of it.

We've been hiking for about a month now. Gale's bullet wound has completely healed, leaving only a small scar, and my arm has regained its full strength. I don't even need to wear the cast anymore.

Between Gale's mindless chatter all day and my complete exhaustion each night, my mind rarely has time to focus on the pain in my heart. And I actually welcome that. Thinking about everything I've lost would be too overwhelming—I'd rather just focus on the mundane details of making it through each and every day than think about the bigger picture or what could have been.

The sun is hanging lower in the sky, but still provides warm, humid days for us. In the evenings, however, we find ourselves adding extra layers of clothes in order to avoid the chill, a clear indication that fall will soon be here.

One night, as we're sitting in front of the fire, finishing up dinner, Gale asks, "What do you think is going on in the Capitol right now?"

I shrug. "It's probably still pandemonium. I would imagine Paylor, as Vice President, is in charge of things, though. It's only a matter of time before she'll institute change."

"I hope so," he says with a touch of melancholy.

"Do you miss it?" I ask him.

He frowns. "No, not the Capitol. But, I do miss helping the Nationalists—feeling like I was making a difference for the country."

I cringe because that was his future. That's how he wanted to spend his life. "Why'd you do it? Why'd you give up everything?" I ask.

He shrugs, and I'm sure he knows exactly what I mean. "Sometimes you have to make tough choices in life," he says evasively.

"You could've tried to talk me out of it. Then you could have kept your position with the Nationalists."

"Would you have listened to me?"

No, of course not. All that would have accomplished is me getting advance warning of his knowledge, so I could modify my plan. I peel the last bit of meat off a bone, stuff it into my mouth, and then lick my fingers. "I feel guilty," I tell him honestly, not bothering to respond to his question.

"You shouldn't. It was my choice."

"But you made a rash decision."

"No. I carefully weighed the pros can cons and followed the path I could live with. Believe me, it was not an easy decision," he says, tossing small twigs into the fire.

I think back to our last days in the Capitol. "Is that why you were so grumpy before we left?"

He looks at me and grins. "That was part of it."

"If your decision made you so unhappy, maybe that was a sign it was the wrong one," I point out.

He turns back to the fire. "Just because you accept something, doesn't mean you won't continue to struggle with the decision," he says like an old sage.

"Are you still struggling with it?"

"Not as much. The fact that we killed Coin has helped. I feel like that was my contribution to the Nationalists, even if I'm never to able to work with them again."

I poke at the fire with a stick. "I'm sure Paylor would take you back…"

He laughs. "And why do you think that? She's a pretty 'by the rules' kind of person. Assassinating the President would not go over well with her."

"True, but she likes you. I'm sure she'd be willing to overlook that."

"She doesn't like me that much."

"Yeah, right," I snort. "She couldn't keep her hands off of you."

Even in the dim glow of the fire, I can see him roll his eyes. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

"What," I say, kind of enjoying how he's squirming with the new direction the conversation has taken. "You didn't like being the teacher's pet in all the meetings?"

"Seriously, something else?"

"So, when did her infatuation begin?" I ask, curiosity killing me.

He shakes his head. "Why do you care?"

"I care about everything that's going on in my best friend's life."

With an exaggerated sigh, he says, "It's really none of your business."

"Aww… did you two have a falling out?" I say, a big smile spreading across my face.

He rubs his chin and shakes his head again. "You really want to hear about me and Paylor?"

My smile vanishes. I assumed there was nothing to hear. My blood pressure rises slightly as I think of the two of them together. Not trusting my voice, I nod to urge him to continue.

After taking a deep breath, he says, "The problem was one night of bad judgement. In the morning, we both agreed it was a mistake. It wasn't until the day I left that I found out it meant a lot more to her than me."

My mouth is dry. I can't believe what he's telling me. "When?" I whisper.

"The night we tested the safe word and then I found you and Peeta in bed together. I was pretty upset. And drunk. Really drunk, actually. I called her up and one thing led to another..."

I stare at him incredulously. In my wildest dreams I didn't expect to hear something like this.

"Don't look at me like that. All high and mighty. You can sleep with Peeta, but I'm not allowed to sleep with Paylor? There was a lot going on right then. I was angry, upset, and drunk!"

I'm taken aback by his words. What he assumes of me and Peeta. I lash out at him, saying, "First of all, your assumptions are wrong. And, secondly, she was the Vice President. What were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't! I think we've fully established that at this point."

After a brief pause, he continues, "What do you mean my assumptions are wrong?" His lips turn up slightly.

"I think you know very well what I mean," I say, focusing my attention back on the fire.

"Really?" His voice trails off as if he's considering some completely foreign idea. A few seconds later, he adds, "Not during the victory tour?"

"No."

"During the Quarter Quell training?"

"No."

"The night of the safe word test?"

"No."

Then he surprises me and lets out a hearty laugh. "Poor guy!"

I grab a rock and heave it at his chest. It hits its mark with a loud thud, knocking him backwards, but he uprights himself immediately, still laughing.

"We were talking about how _Paylor_ couldn't keep her hands off of _you_," I remind him.

He suddenly seems to be in better spirits. "Why, is that jealousy I'm sensing from you, Catnip?"

"Ugh," I groan, standing up. "I'm going to bed."

A few minutes later, I hear the unzipping of the tent and then Gale steps inside. He accidentally kicks my leg as he tries to climb over me. "Sorry," he mumbles, finding his spot. I sense him sitting up next to me.

"Well this was a fun night. I feel like we both know each other a little better," he quips.

"Very enlightening," I say.

He laughs and lies down on the ground. Unexpectedly, his body slides up next to mine and he rests his arm on my hip. I tense immediately.

"Oops, sorry," he says, pulling away his arm and pushing his body backwards a few inches. "My mistake. I forgot—I need to fall asleep first." He yawns. "Don't worry, it shouldn't be long. I'm pretty beat tonight."

My heart sinks. I knew it would come to this at some point. I was just being greedy thinking we could continue the status quo without ever having to actually acknowledge what was happening.

"Are you mad?" I ask timidly, my muscles still flexed.

"About what?"

"Me lying next to you," I say, annoyed. Of course he knows what I'm talking about.

He chuckles. "Why would that make me mad? Because you're using me to stop the nightmares of your dead ex-boyfriend?" He's trying to make light of the situation, but his pain shows through.

I say, "I'll stop. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he responds with a sigh. "Trust me, I'd rather have that than the alternative. All the screaming was really getting in the way of my beauty sleep."

"And you need all the beauty sleep you can get."

"Exactly."

He yawns again, and I press my body against his. He drapes his arm over my waist once more.

"Thank you, Gale. You're a good friend."

"Anything for you," he mumbles quietly, already half asleep.


	29. Chapter 27

**A/N: This is another kind of short chapter. Can you think of anything else I could add? I like how it ends, so I want to keep that as the stopping point, but if you have any ideas for how I could add more detail to what's already in there or something new I could add, I'd love to hear it! **

**As always, thanks for reading! (And a special thank you to the small group that faithfully provides reviews-y'all are making me a very happy person :)**

* * *

The next morning, we wake as usual, neither of us mentioning the late night conversation. I kneel in the tent and reach for my boots.

"How would you feel about staying here today?" Gale asks, leaning up on his elbows.

"Why?"

"I'm tired," he says with a yawn. "We've been hiking for a month and I could really use a lazy day to sit around and rest."

I actually kind of like being tired as it prevents my mind from wandering to unpleasant thoughts, but Gale does look exhausted. Plus, once we reach the cabin, I'm not sure what we'll do, so arriving one day later won't be the end of the world. I agree to his plan and then continue lacing up my boots.

Once outside, I ignite a fire and warm some leftover turkey and katniss roots we gathered from along the riverbank. Gale must be taking his relaxation seriously because he has still not bothered to join me. After finishing my portion, I carry his breakfast to the tent. When I unzip the door, he's lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, thanks," he says, sitting up.

I hand him the food. "What's the big plan for your lazy day?"

"A nap."

"That's it?"

He shrugs. "What are you doing?"

"I guess I'll hunt a little. My bow could use some work. Maybe I'll go for a swim back by that waterfall."

Scrunching his nose, he says, "You should definitely go for a swim—your odor is becoming overwhelming."

I laugh and then say, "I'm surprised you can even notice with the stench that follows you around."

"Good point. I'll add bath to my 'to do' list for the day." He finishes his food and looks at the sleeping bag.

"So, are you starting with the nap then?"

"No, no. I should get up. I'm going to place a few snares," he says, stretching his legs.

"How long will you be gone?"

"An hour or two. Do you want to join me?"

I shake my head. "I think a little time apart would be good for both of us."

He grips his chest dramatically and pouts. "Are you saying that you're tired of my company after only a month?"

"I was tired of you after the first day," I say with a smile and exit the tent.

"That hurts!" he yells through the open door.

A few minutes later, I begin making the short trek to the waterfall, excited to finally rinse away the layer of grime that has accumulated on me for days. When I reach the large collecting pool, I lean over and dip my hand in the water. It's cool, but at least the sun is shining brightly today, so I'll dry off in no time.

I strip down to my underwear and slowly enter the river. As I walk closer to the waterfall, the pool deepens and I dive under. Goosebumps form when the icy tendrils wrap around my body. I swim a couple laps to warm up and then stand under the stream of water, allowing the pressure to scrub away the caked-on dirt. When I'm finished, my skin in cold and raw, reminding me of the damage my prep team always caused.

Shivering, I exit the water and quickly dress. The sun's mid-morning rays shine brightly on the opposite side of the river where I notice a large flat-topped boulder jutting into the pool. I circle my way around the waterline, getting misted by a fine spray as I walk under the waterfall. When I reach the boulder, I climb on top. Drenched in sunlight, I recline on my elbows, keeping my face towards the warm rays. A while later, as the chill in my body finally begins to fade, I see Gale heading down the path from our campsite.

When he reaches the edge of the river, he spots me along the other side and waves. "How's the water?" he yells.

"Cold!" I reply loudly, so he'll hear me over the crash of the waterfall.

He pulls off his shirt and begins unbuttoning his pants.

"Gale!"

He looks up alarmed. "What?"

"Could you keep your pants on?"

"No, they'll get wet!" he yells from across the pool.

"I really don't want to see you in your underwear!"

"Then don't look!"

I scowl, but cover my eyes with my hands. After a moment I hear a splash. "Are you in the water?"

"Yes!"

I open my eyes and find him bobbing in the middle of the deep part of the pool. His hair is wet and matted to his head. It's significantly longer than he usually keeps it, curling around his ears and falling into his eyes.

"You need a haircut!" I shout to him.

He gracefully swims closer to my rock. When he's only a few feet away, he asks, "Are you volunteering?"

"Do you have scissors?"

"A knife."

"You trust me to cut your hair with a knife?"

"It's not like I've got anyone to impress out here."

He's got a point. I smile and lie back on the rock, closing my eyes. The rhythmic splashing of his arms gliding through the water in an effortless backstroke lulls me to that state very close to sleep. I'm vaguely aware of my surroundings, but too far removed to react. I sense a shadow drift over me—maybe a cloud passing overhead? Suddenly, I'm being pelted with hundreds of tiny, frigid drops. That's all I need to wake fully. I jump up, convinced it's raining, only to find Gale standing in front of me shaking his mop of hair.

I scream and reach for his arm to try and stop him, but he's faster than me. Laughing, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me tight against his chest. Then, with one long stride, we're both airborne. I try to push myself away, but he holds me tight and we hit the water moments later. My body goes under and the cold hits me like a jolt of electricity. I quickly kick my feet. As soon as my head clears the surface of the water, I'm screaming at him.

"Gale!"

He's to my left, still laughing.

"What was that for?!" I ask, my teeth chattering.

"Swimming is more fun with someone else."

I narrow my eyes at him and begin making my way to the shore, although my clothes slow me down considerably. He floats up next to me. "Come on. Have some fun."

"It's cold!"

"You'll warm up after you move around a bit."

"I'm getting out."

"You used to be more fun," he says grumpily and then closes the distance to the shore in a few strokes. Standing, he exits the pond giving me an unobstructed view of his backside clad only in a threadbare pair of boxers clinging to every curve of his body.

"Gale! You don't have any pants on!"

Giving me a rude gesture with his hand, he walks over to his discarded clothing.

I turn my head, focusing on anything other than the half-naked man in front of me and exit the pond soon after him. I sneak a peek in his direction, just as his pants skim over his hips.

Walking purposefully toward him, I shout, "You can't be mad at me! You're the one who threw me in the water!"

His back is still to me as he buttons his pants. He doesn't say anything.

"And besides…," I continue, walking up right behind him. But what I see stops me mid-sentence. How have I not noticed this before? The water glistens on his back, accentuating the burnished patchwork that is his skin. Dark scarlet marks replace his olive coloring, criss-crossing haphazardly and giving the sense of a macabre camouflage.

Reflexively, I reach out and touch a raised scar, tracing my fingers along its contour from his left shoulder to his right hip. Gale stands motionless as I gently move my hand along his back. Suddenly, I'm transported to my dining room where he laid on our table near death for days while my mother tended to him after his ruthless lashing. I recall clearly how I caressed his cheek, his brow, his lips. How I kissed him while he drifted in and out of consciousness. The anger I felt for the peacekeepers and Snow come rushing back in full force. But it's worse now because it's compounded, magnified by Coin and all the other atrocities we've been subjected to. In his back I see the deaths of my father, Cinna, Rue, Prim, Finnick, and Peeta. My throat constricts, a gravelly sob escapes, and I imagine losing Gale, too.

I slowly lower my lips to one of his scars, tasting his salty skin. I savor the warmth against my mouth, the life emanating from him, as a tear slides down my cheek.

Abruptly, Gale turns towards me, his lips traveling across my cheek and finding my mouth with a sense of urgency. His hands inch upward along my back to the nape of my neck. He holds me firmly as his lips take possession of mine. The fury, the fire I feel is reflected back to me in the intensity with which he claims my mouth, my body, my entire being. A deep need begins to develop inside of me; it's a throbbing in the pit of my stomach that gradually spreads and magnifies, awaking parts of me that have been dormant for months.

My body's reaction surprises me—my lips press against his confidently and vigorously, matching him move for move. I run my fingers down his jawline, into his beard, finally gripping his face resolutely. Tears continue to stream from my eyes, falling to where our mouths meet. But even the moisture can't suppress the burning trails left by Gale's lips.

He moves his hands to the sides of my face and pulls away slightly. Pain resonates in his eyes, and I feel the electric charge between us shift. We're no longer being driven by rage and passion, but rather succumbing to what we both need. He slowly, tenderly kisses the corner of my eye, my cheekbone, the edge of my nose, following the path of my tears.

I knot my fingers in his hair and close my eyes. Drawing his body even closer, I rest one hand on his chest to feel his pounding heart, his life force.

Between kisses, he breathlessly says, "I love you, Katniss."


	30. Chapter 28

**A/N: I'm interested to hear your thoughts on this chapter because I know most of you are Gale fans and I have a feeling you might not like this one too much. But, really, did you honestly think Katniss would get over Peeta with just with one look at Gale's scars and a passionate kiss? She needs to have a major meltdown before she can begin to heal and move on, right? **

* * *

Gale's words bring me back to reality. His confession of love brings visions of Peeta and all the times he said those very words to me. The one time I said those words to him.

Gale's fingers brush across my cheek, but I push him away. I bite my quivering lip. What did I just do? What does Gale think? I glance up at his eyes, and the confusion, the pain is readily apparent.

"Katniss," he whispers, reaching for my hand.

"No," I whisper, taking a step behind me.

He takes a step forward, pleading with me. "It's okay."

"No…" I slowly retreat another step. I suddenly despise myself. How could I do this? What about Peeta? A dam breaks inside of me. I cry out in anguish as my body begins trembling.

"No!" I choke out between gasps, and then turn and run back to the campsite.

I collapse on the ground, my back against a tree, overwhelmed by the extent of my emotions. I see Gale watching me cautiously from a few feet away, but even the sight of him appraising me doesn't slow down my tears or decrease the uncontrollable heaving. My chest constricts, forcing me to take in air in ragged and uneven breaths. I become light-headed, and I know I'm on the verge of hyperventilating. Placing my head between my knees, I will myself to breathe slowly through the wild bawling that has consumed me.

I don't know how long I sit like that, but eventually, my tears run dry and my throat becomes swollen. Each gasp causes more pain than the previous, coming out in a hoarse whisper. I raise my head, expecting to see Gale still watching me, but the woods are empty.

I sit there with my back against the tree, staring into space, but seeing nothing, for a long time. The sun moves from directly overhead to low on the horizon. At some point, I remove the picture of Peeta from my pocket. It's still wet from Gale throwing me in the water, so I carefully unfold it and lay it flat on the ground to dry. One small corner tears off, and it feels like part of me dies as I crumple up that piece and toss it into the forest.

When it's finally dry, I hold it up, staring at Peeta's face. The guilt I feel is devastating. "I'm so sorry, Peeta," I whisper. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much I love you when it would've meant something. I'm sorry I kissed Gale."

The sound of a twig snapping breaks the silence around me. I jerk my head up and see Gale leaning against a tree to my left and holding the game from his snares.

"How long have you been there?" I ask accusingly.

"Long enough."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop." My hoarse voice breaks.

"You should talk to me about what you're going through."

"That's not going to happen."

"Maybe I can help."

"Not likely."

He sighs. "Peeta and I had our issues, but one thing I know is he wouldn't want you beating yourself up like this. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy, whether that was with him or without him. Seeing you like this would crush him."

I say nothing in return, and after a few moments Gale moves to the fire pit and begins cleaning the game. He brings me dinner, but I refuse it, having no appetite whatsoever.

That night, I hug my knees to my chest and pull the sleeping bag tight under my chin. Gale is sitting up and I feel his watchful eyes on me.

"I'm sorry I messed up your picture," he says quietly.

He sounds genuinely upset, which moves me—I choke back yet another sob.

He lies down, but I sense his hesitation. A moment later, he says, "You're going to have to provide me some direction here. I've got to be honest—I have no idea what you need right now."

Despite everything that's happened during the day, I smile weakly at his candor. He doesn't know if I need him to hold me like usual or if that will send me into another weeping fit. And how can I blame him for that? Why is holding each other every night okay while kissing isn't? The answer is easy, for me at least. It's because holding each other is a necessity to get through the night, not something associated with intimate thoughts and feelings. I should probably make Gale aware of that, but I'm too worn out from the day to even broach that topic.

Instead, I turn around to face him and pull my knees to my chest. He wraps his arm around me and places his legs underneath mine, pressing our bodies together. He tucks my head into his chest. I'm in a cocoon, my own personal cocoon that protects me from the demons in my mind.

Gale kisses my hair lightly and then rests his chin on top of my head. "I'm sorry you're going through all this," he whispers before I drift off to sleep.

The next five weeks go by uneventfully. Neither of us talks about my breakdown. The first few days were quiet; Gale seemed apprehensive, afraid to say anything because it might cause a recurrence of my emotional upheaval. I'm embarrassed that he saw me in such a state, but there's nothing I can do about it, other than hope he soon forgets. Luckily, I have successfully limited my thoughts of Peeta to my one-minute nighttime ritual once again.

The season has fully changed and fall is upon us now. The bright greens of summer have been replaced by warm oranges and reds, and there's a brisk wind bringing in cooler northern air. We're now wearing long sleeves and are able to see the frozen condensation of our breath every morning when we start hiking.

The days have become shorter, too, which means we're getting more sleep since the sun is our alarm clock. But we aren't concerned about making it to the cabin before the first snowfall. The woods we're in now look like home. The trees, the plants, the sounds, and even the smells all scream of home. We're not sure when that happened, probably because it was such a gradual change, but the excitement we both feel is palpable. It will be nice to be in the cabin, to have a connection back to our lives.

We suspect we only have another week or two before we'll see the dilapidated fence around District 12. Though we don't talk about it, I know we both wonder if we'll find a note from Haymitch waiting for us there. Part of me wants one so Gale can return to his life, his family. I know that I'm not what he needs; he deserves much more than I'll ever be able to offer him. But another part of me dreads such a note. I can't imagine going back to my house in the Victor's Village. To see Peeta's empty house every day. If there's a note, I'm seriously considering moving to District 4 with my mother, so I can start anew.

I'm sitting in front of the fire, contemplating these options while I feast on a goose drumstick. With all the waterfowl migrating south, Gale and I have had some real delicacies the last few weeks.

"Gale, if you don't hurry up, I'm eating yours!" I yell into the woods.

"Do it and you're carrying the backpack for the next week!" he shouts back.

Grease drips from my hand onto my shirt. With my clean hand, I pull out my Peeta picture to protect it from damage. I begin walking towards the tent to leave it there, when I hear Gale ambling through the brush.

"Can't you let a man relie…"

He stops mid-sentence and I'm immediately on alert.

"Gale?" I ask quietly into the woods.

"I could use a little help here, Katniss."

"What is it?"

"Bring your bow."

I drop the drumstick and run back for my bow, which is leaning against a tree near the fire. I hold the Peeta picture in my left hand between my pinky and ring finger, while I grab onto the grip of the bow with my other fingers.

"Please hurry, Katniss," he says urgently.

I quickly load an arrow and walk towards Gale's voice. He's standing perfectly still, while not even ten feet away is a massive mountain lion, crouched and ready to pounce. Its muscles tighten, its tail twitches. A low rumble resonates from deep within its chest as it bares its sharp fangs.

"Please shoot it, Katniss."

I raise my bow aiming for its chest just as a strong wind rips through the trees. The delicate piece of paper between my fingers is pulled away. It floats effortlessly in the breeze, gliding back the way I came. I'm hypnotized watching it fade away—my last remnant of Peeta slipping from my fingers.

"Katniss!" Gale hisses, bringing my attention back to the dangerous situation before us.

The mountain lion's claws are pulsating, rhythmically extending and flexing. But I can't focus. I look back to my precious piece of paper. It's dangerously close to the fire now. It's surrounded by swirls of smoke and I become panicked. I can't let it be engulfed by flames. I take a step towards it.

"Katniss!" Gale yells again. I jerk my body back towards him just as the big cat pushes off the ground with its muscular rear legs, leaping towards Gale. I aim faster than I thought possible and release the arrow. It impales the cat in the chest mid-leap, causing its body to go limp and tumble to the ground.

I waste no time. I run to the picture, racing towards Peeta. The paper has settled on the ground next to the fire. I'm almost there, just eight more feet, when another gust picks up the brittle paper and flips it into the flames.

"No!" I scream. Reaching the fire seconds later, I stick my hand into the embers to retrieve my only link to Peeta. Pain doesn't even register. I pull out the blackened form of the paper, flames surrounding both it and my hand. I wave the paper back and forth to extinguish the fire. Instead, the paper breaks apart into tiny flecks of black ash. I stare at it, hypnotized, my hand still blazing when Gale douses me with water moments later.

"Are you crazy?!" he asks, panic in his voice and eyes.

He grabs my hand and examines it, pulling up my shirtsleeve to assess the extent of the damage. I still don't feel anything other than remorse. Peeta is truly gone now. Gone from me forever.

"You're blistering," Gale yells and then drops my hand, running into the tent.

Seconds later, he's back with an armload of supplies. I'm only vaguely aware of him applying ointment and wrapping my hand in gauze.

"How bad does it hurt?" he asks.

"It doesn't," I reply without feeling.

He gives me an incredulous look. "Do you want some morphling?"

Yes, anything to take me away from this place. To take away the emotional pain. To make me forget what I've lost.

I nod.

He draws yellow fluid into a syringe and injects it into my arm. I continue staring at the now soggy ashes that were my connection to Peeta, while the medicine begins to take effect.

I place my hand on the pieces and they begin to swirl around me. Faster and faster, they wrap around my body, rising higher and higher. I try to grab them, but they flutter away in a graceful dance. One by one they come together in a tight ball, radiating a brilliant blue light from its interior. It's beautiful. I strain to touch it, but the pulsating ball is just out of reach. Suddenly, the blue radiance is replaced by blinding white light. It illuminates the entire night sky. And then Peeta is standing before me. He looks just as I remember—curly blond hair, sparking blue eyes, easy smile, and muscular chest and arms.

"Peeta," I whisper, reaching for him. I step forward, but get no closer. "Let me touch you."

He smiles, but says nothing.

"I've missed you. I love you. Please come back to me."

He frowns at me, but again says nothing.

"Talk to me, Peeta. Please," I beg.

His image begins to flicker, like a candle flame in the wind.

"No. Don't leave me again!" I scream.

He kisses his fingertips and points them in my direction.

"No! Don't leave. I have nothing left of you!" I cry out.

Then there's nothing but darkness. I weep into my hands.

"This might hurt a little." My eyes blink open a couple times. Gale is sitting next to me with all the medical supplies. It's bright outside, the sun directly overhead.

"It—It's noon already?" I ask confused.

"Yes. You rather enjoyed your morphling trip," he says. He unwraps the gauze, causing a stinging pain to radiate up my arm. I recoil.

"I'll get you a pain killer in just a second. But no more morphling for you. I didn't get any sleep last night with all your babbling."

I cringe. I have no idea what I might have said.

Once I'm bandaged and medicated, Gale sets out to get us lunch. I wander around the campsite, remembering bits and pieces of the night before. I see the matted and blood-stained groundcover where the mountain lion must have landed, although its body has been removed. I walk next to the fire pit and see the small pile of ashes, lying innocuously on the ground. The sense of loss I feel with that little pile of ash is indescribable.

I continue wandering through the woods, focusing on the details of nature around me, trying to keep my dark thoughts in the recesses of my mind where they belong. Along the trail, I pass a nightlock bush. How apropros. I pull a cluster of berries and carry them with me, rubbing the small, dark fruit between my fingers.

After some time, I find myself on a rock outcropping overlooking the valley below. It's peaceful. I sit down and stare at the vast expanse of forest before me. From my vantage point, it almost seems like everything is good with the world. It's hard to imagine all the pain and suffering we're forced to endure during our short lifetimes. But I know that pain better than the average person. I look at the berries in my hand. I could end it all right now. End it the way it began, really.

I pluck a berry off the stem and hold it in front of my face. I've been fighting the better part of the last two years to stay alive, and now I'm considering the easy way out. I weigh the pros and cons in my head.

Soundlessly, Gale appears beside me on the rock. I pick up the cluster of berries so he has a place to sit.

"Pretty view from here," he says.

I nod.

He snatches a berry from my cupped hand and tosses it into the valley below.

"Tell me your favorite memory of Peeta," he says.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "Why?"

He plucks another berry and tosses it over the cliff. "I think it will help."

I groan. "Did I say something last night?"

He stares straight ahead. "You're worried you're going to forget him." Another berry goes flying into the valley. "I'm no psychologist, but I think you were using that piece of paper as a way to hold onto him. You don't need that paper. You have so many more memories up here," he says, tapping my temple.

"Memories fade with time," I reply quietly.

"Not if we keep them alive."

Tears sting at the corner of my eyes. I bite my lip and look to the sky to prevent them from rolling over my eyelids and onto my cheeks.

"I'll start. My best memory is after the Tracker Jacker attack when he risked his life with the Careers to help you escape. If he hadn't done that, we wouldn't be sitting here today. I'll always be grateful to him for saving your life then. Your turn."

"I don't know."

"Having a hard time thinking of a G-rated memory you can share with me, huh?" he says with a smirk, rocking his shoulder into mine.

I roll my eyes. "No. As you are now so inappropriately aware, all of our memories are G-rated."

A few moments later, he continues. "Let's start with something easier. Tell me one thing about Prim I don't know."

I tilt my head to the side and study his face. Finally, I say, "She had a crush on Rory."

"Really?" he asks with genuine surprise.

"Yeah."

"They would've been cute together," he says, melancholy settling into his features.

We sit like that, in comfortable silence, for a few minutes. All the while, Gale continues to empty my hand of the deadly fruit.

Eventually, I say, "I miss Peeta's sense of humor. He was witty. You're just sarcastic."

He smiles and throws the last berry over the ledge.

"I wasn't going to eat those," I inform him.

"Good."


	31. Chapter 29

**A/N: I'm interested in hearing your thoughts on this chapter. My plan for this was to have a long time pass (like nine months) before the action picks up again (you didn't think they'd live in the woods the rest of their lives, did you?). But I'm struggling with how to do that while showing the emotional changes that they undergo with very little action to move the plot forward. I've tried to pick out key scenes at different points that show emotional growth, but I'm a little worried it comes across as disjointed, monotonous, or repetitive. What do you think? And don't worry, in the next chapter we'll get back into real action that moves the plot forward. **

* * *

It's six weeks later, and we're well into winter now. Luckily, we're also at the cabin. The first snow hit about two weeks ago, and it's been coming down fairly regularly since then. Tonight, we're sitting in front of the fire enjoying a venison stew, compliments of Gale.

"You know, I think you really are a better cook," I say, licking my spoon clean.

"Of course I am."

"And modest on top of that." I kick his foot lightly with my own.

He gives me a small smile and then leans back on his elbows, staring at the blazing fire. He looks contemplative. He's actually looked like that a lot since we arrived to the cabin a month ago. I'm pretty sure it's because there was no note from Haymitch waiting for us here. We don't talk about it, but I have a feeling he was disappointed—no doubt he's ready to socialize with someone other than me.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask after a few moments of silence.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe that."

He turns his head towards me. "I'm just impressed that we made it here—that's all."

"You doubted our skills?" I say, drawing my hands to my chest and pretending to take offense.

"No… not really. It's just that a lot of things could've happened. I'm sure no one expected us to kill Coin, hike a thousand miles, and then settle into this cabin in the middle of the woods."

Shaking my head, I say, "I have to disagree. I think our friends and families would expect nothing less than that from us."

He grins. "Okay, I'll give you that… although I think Peeta would've been pretty disappointed had he seen you with the nightlock berries."

I cringe, thinking back to the emotional wreck I was. And I know he's right. Peeta would've been horrified by that. As horrified as Gale was. Although Gale didn't act like it was a big deal, I know exactly how hard it hit him because the next time I went to that rock outcropping, the nightlock bush was absent, a large hole in the ground where it stood the day before. I'm pretty sure I'll never see another nightlock plant again, as long as he's around.

"Peeta would be grateful to you," I say quietly.

Gale shrugs off my comment and goes back to staring at the fire.

Despite how awkward it was at first, Gale and I have started talking about Prim and Peeta, as well as our fathers, regularly. I'm surprised by how much it does help. Remembering even the most mundane detail keeps them alive in my heart—makes me feel like we continue to cherish them even though they're no longer with us. I'm sure this plays a huge role in my dramatically improved mood. And although I'll never admit it to Gale, I know he's responsible for my emotional wellbeing—I'm not sure what would have happened to me without him.

The rest of the evening is quiet. Gale remains deep in thought, so I head to bed early.

The next morning, I wake up with the sun as usual, but Gale is already sitting in front of a roaring fire, lacing up his boots.

"You're getting an early start," I say with a yawn.

"Yeah, I don't like the way the sky's looking. I'm worried a storm is brewing, so I'm going to head out a little early."

I nod in response. Gale and I have had to start alternating hunting days because the permanent layer of snow quickly soaks through our summer hunting boots. If we take a day off, they usually dry completely before the next trip.

Unfortunately, it's during Gale's hunting days that loneliness begins to creep in, always making me anxious for his return. I try to busy myself with chores, but there's only so much to do. Today, I sweep the cabin, clean the hearth, make soup, patch a hole in one of the walls, and then make myself some tea. I take my cup and settle onto the cot, looking out the window for Gale. It's been snowing all day, but the flurries from this morning shifted to a full-blown snowstorm about a half-hour ago, just as Gale predicted. I'm now having a hard time making out the tree line, which is only about ninety feet from the cabin, through the shifting wall of white flakes.

I look around the cabin for something else to do to occupy my mind, but there's nothing. Tapping my fingers impatiently on the windowsill, I focus on how much better things will be once spring arrives. We'll be able to hunt together and spend time outside, rather than being cramped in this tiny cabin all day.

I gaze expectantly out the window again. He's been gone three hours, which is how long it generally takes. I tell myself I'll give him one more hour before I go out looking. I walk over to the table and reorganize our supplies for the third time today. I move the burn cream behind the antibiotics and then decide they both belong on the other side of the large box of matches, next to the bandages. It's when I'm contemplating moving the ropes that the door finally opens.

Gale stands in the doorway, but what I see causes me to gasp. He's pale, wet, and shivering uncontrollably. White powder dusts his hair, his eyebrows, even the tip of his nose. Panic grips me. I've never seen him so pale; he looks like a ghost. His limbs move slowly, much too slowly, and his eyes droop, but stare at me unblinking. Something terrible must have happened while he was hunting.

I know he needs immediate help. I think back to what my mother used to do for patients like this. Step one was always removing the wet clothes.

I rush to his side and pull him into the semi-warm cabin, shutting the door behind us. He moves stiffly, as if in slow motion. His clothes are soaking wet and partially frozen in areas. I pull him farther inside towards the fire and begin unbuttoning his shirt. In the process, I break off small icicles that hang from the buttonholes, causing them to fall to our feet and shatter.

"What happened?" I ask, fear in my voice.

"I—I…" His teeth are chattering. He can't complete a sentence.

"Shhh… it's okay," I say. I pull first one arm and then the other out of his frozen shirt, dropping it in a pile on the floor. His undershirt is drenched too, so I pull it above his head. When I touch the pale skin of his chest, it's frigid. His fingers are blue. I begin rubbing them in my own hands to warm them up.

He continues to stare blankly ahead. What if he doesn't make it? What will I do without him? How will I survive without him? He's the reason I'm still here.

I fight the fear rising in my chest. We made it all the way from the Capitol only for him to develop hypothermia when we're in a place as familiar as our homes in the Seam. I can't let him down. I need to focus my attention on him, do everything I can to help.

I lean over and unlace his boots and then remove them and his socks one at a time.

"P—pants," he says.

I still, my eyes fall on his pants. Yes, they're soaking wet, half frozen, and need to come off, but yet I pause.

He reaches down and fumbles with the button, but it's clear his hands aren't working. He can't even grasp the two pieces of fabric; his fingers keep slipping off, probably because they have no feeling in them whatsoever.

Finally, his head moves slightly and he looks at me beseechingly. " P—Please…"

I take a deep breath. He could die. I can't lose him. It's just a pair of pants. I reach towards him, quickly undo the button, and then lower the zipper. I ease the material over his hips and down to the floor. After helping him step his legs out one at a time, I kick the pants so they join the discarded shirts on the floor. His boxers are soaking wet too, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

I grab the sleeping bag from the cot and wrap it around his shoulders. Then I drag the cot over, so it's directly in front of the fire, and help him lower himself into a sitting position. He's still shivering uncontrollably, his lips blue.

"I'll get you some soup," I say, afraid that I'm not doing enough to help.

He nods.

I bring a bowl over and try to pass it to him, but his hands are shaking so badly, he'll end up wearing half of it. Instead, I tilt the bowl up to his mouth and encourage him to take a drink. After two good gulps, I lower the bowl.

"G—Good," he says.

I tilt the bowl back up and offer him some more. Once he finishes, I rub his fingers between my hands again, trying to restore blood flow. I'm pleasantly surprised to find them less blue than they were a few minutes ago.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask.

He nods and points to the bowl.

I end up feeding him two more bowls of soup before he indicates he's had enough. By then, his shivering has significantly decreased and his lips are pink again. His toes are still blue, though, so I take off my socks and place them on his feet. They're snug, but will do the trick.

"Thanks," he says quietly. It's the first full word he's been able to get out without stuttering. That small realization brings me more joy than it probably should. He's still in danger, I know that, but this has to be a positive sign.

I grab his hands and begin rubbing them again, but he recoils.

"What?" I ask, alarmed.

"Hurts… stinging." He closes his eyes and his face becomes distorted in pain.

"Can I do anything to help?"

He shakes his head. I run to our supplies and try to find something that will work, but the only possibility is pain killers. I'm hesitant to give him those. What if he falls asleep and never wakes up? I settle for sitting next to him, my arm wrapped around his back, my leg pressed against his, hoping some of my warmth will spread to him.

An hour later, his body finally relaxes and his eyes become clearer, more focused.

"You should lie down," I say. I pick up his legs, help him move them onto the cot, and then pull the sleeping bag around to cover his whole body.

I watch him, hesitant about what I should do. My body heat would probably be helpful, but if his skin is still sensitive, I don't want to hurt him.

"Are you joining me?" he asks.

Without a second thought, I climb onto the cot next to him and wrap my arms around him for once. He's still much colder than usual. I move even closer and hold him tighter in my arms.

"Hmmm… I should get hypothermia more often," he says.

I smile. That's a good sign—he must be feeling better.

A few hours later, I'm momentarily disoriented when I wake. Early evening light steams through the window, but it doesn't hit us like normal. I sit up and notice that we're on the other side of the room, in front of the fireplace. Then I see Gale next to me, with the sleeping bag pulled up under his arms, tufts of chest hair sticking out above the edge. His normal skin tone is back and his fingers are nice and pink. I touch them tentatively—warmer than mine.

His eyes open lazily.

"How are you feeling?" I ask.

"Much better."

"Are you still cold?"

He shakes his head.

"Any pain?"

He wrinkles his brow, considering my question. "One of my toes hurts, but I think I'll survive."

"Which toe?"

He laughs. "Does it matter?"

"If you're going to lose a toe to frostbite, you don't want it to be your big toe," I say seriously.

He laughs again. "You'll be happy to know it's the little toe on my left foot. A pretty inconsequential appendage, actually. I should be able to get along just fine without it."

I smile. "Are you making fun of me?"

"A little bit." He rolls over so he's facing me, our bodies only inches apart.

"I was worried about you," I say soberly.

He props his head up on his elbow. "I was worried, too. I didn't think I'd make it back here."

"What happened?"

"I was tracking a deer along the river. I got really close to the bank. I knew I was tempting fate, but I almost had him in my sites. Then, quicker than I could react, the shelf of ice I was on gave way, dumping me into the river."

"How far away were you?"

He shrugs. "Probably two miles or so. It was a really long walk back."

In my mind I see the scene as he describes it. What if he had been carried away in rapids or was dumped under a rock? What if he had collapsed on the way back?

"Hey, I'm fine," he says touching my face. "You should be smiling, not frowning."

I nod. "You're right. You're here and you're fine. Well, other than the little toe on your left foot," I say with a grin. "I am happy."

He smiles, his hand still on my face. My heart skips a beat, taking me by surprise.

I'm momentarily stunned by my body's reaction. But rather than consider the meaning of it, I jump up to distract myself. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sure," he says chuckling, clearly enjoying the moment.

At the table, I gather the tea pot and some dried mint leaves. I step around the cot to collect snow from outside, but as I walk past Gale, something on the floor distracts me. It's his boxers. My cheeks become warm as blood rushes into them.

"Um, Gale."

"Yeah."

"Do you have any clothes on under the sleeping bag?"

He smirks. "There's an easy way for you to figure that out."

I roll my eyes, but the feeling developing inside of me is unexpected. Even when Gale and I kissed in the woods, it wasn't like this. That was an emotional maelstrom brought on by years of anger, resentment, and grief. This is me reacting to Gale. Reacting to my naked best friend who is only a few feet away. A fire has ignited deep in my core, and it's slowly spreading up to my chest, my face. My breathing is growing shallower.

"Are you blushing, Catnip?"

"No," I lie and dart outside to get the snow for the tea. While I'm there I grab an extra handful and place it against my flaming cheeks. I try to process what just happened. Does Gale really bring out those feelings in me after everything that's happened? Is this something I want to act on? Or is this just a reaction to his near-death experience? Unfortunately, I don't know the answer to any of those questions.

When I reenter the cabin, the boxers are noticeably absent from the floor, but Gale is back on the cot with the sleeping bag pulled up to his chin. A boyish grin on his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to embarrass you. I just woke up in the middle of the night and had wet underwear on. It was cold and uncomfortable. You know… a good nurse would have taken them off for me."

"I've never claimed to be a good nurse," I reply, busying myself with the tea. I sneak a peek at Gale from the corner of my eye and see him assessing me. Does he sense that something has changed?

When I turn around to face him fully, I know that he does. His face is different—he looks really… hopeful. Beautiful and hopeful. I immediately know the answer to two of my questions. Yes, Gale can bring out those feelings in me after everything that's happened, but no I cannot act on them because if things don't work out, I couldn't bear the pain it would cause him. Unless I am absolutely confident that I am his for the rest of our lives in every way that I know he wants me, I won't risk it. Right now, that's just not a commitment I'm able to make.


	32. Chapter 30

Winter has finally given way to spring. Budding maples and dogwoods brighten the barren tree line, while blooming coreopsis and columbine paint the ground with shades of yellow and pink.

But most importantly, the warmer weather means we're able to spend the majority of our days outside again. We've finally escaped the stifling cabin. Today, we've decided to try fishing in the pond using Gale's homemade fishing poles. I'm impressed by his ingenuity in making them. With tree branches, strands of twine from one of our ropes, and needles from two syringes, he was able to create makeshift rods that look like they might actually work.

I stare out at the water as Gale baits his hook with an earthworm.

"Want me to bait your line?" he asks.

"I can do it," I say, grabbing my pole from the ground.

I add a worm and then cast my line so it joins Gale's near the center of the pond. We stand there silently for a few moments.

"You think this will work?" I ask.

He shrugs his shoulders.

After another five minutes, I say, "Maybe the water's too cold and the fish aren't biting."

"We've been out here less than ten minutes. Could you have a little patience?"

I wait another ten minutes and then pull my line from the water. I could have caught a couple squirrels in the time we've been standing here.

"You done?" Gale asks.

"Yeah. I'll go shoot us some lunch while you continue to demonstrate your patience."

He says nothing. This has become the norm since we arrived at the cabin. He rarely jokes with me anymore, despite my repeated attempts, unless he's making some suggestive comment or innuendo. And, of course, that has been occurring more frequently since the boxer incident. I'm beginning to wonder if the only satisfaction he gets out of life is seeing me blush.

While he won't explicitly say he's unhappy, his serious and focused demeanor makes it clear that he's not having much fun. It's probably even more noticeable to me because I'm actually enjoying myself here. It's the simple life I've always wanted.

While I'm winding the line around my pole, Gale starts walking backwards, holding his line with his hand.

"You've got something?" I ask with surprise.

He nods.

He continues walking backwards, pulling his catch closer to the shoreline with every step. When it's almost on dry land, I can see that it's a large catfish. I take Gale's fishing pole from him, and he walks into the water to grab our lunch. After removing the hook, he holds it out for me to see.

"Looks like he's had a rough life," Gale says, pointing to a mangled fin on the fish's back.

"Aw… do you want to release it? I can imagine you feel a certain connection to it," I say with a chuckle.

He rolls his eyes and lowers the fish to the ground. "Of course because I'm…" He holds out his hands, welcoming me to finish his sentence.

"Disfigured just like him," I say, still laughing. Gale rolls his eyes again. He never thinks my jokes about the little toe on his left foot are funny. Lucky for him, though, the antibiotic ointment prevented an infection, so he merely lost part of that toe to frostbite, not the entire thing.

"You know, you find yourself much funnier than you really are," he says, pulling a knife out of his pocket and severing the fish's spinal cord, causing a quick and relatively painless death.

"You just don't know good humor when you hear it," I say matter-of-factly, picking up my fishing pole and walking to the edge of the pond. Perhaps I should give this another try.

"Is that so?" he asks, following me.

I nod and cast my line into the middle of the water.

The next thing I know, something cold hits the side of my face. I reach up with my hand and wipe off a glob of mud. I stare at it in disbelief and then turn to find Gale smiling broadly.

He raises his arm and pelts me with another handful; this one lands directly on my forehead.

"Now _that_ is funny!" he says, laughing. I've missed that sound.

I drop my pole and immediately reach down to grab two handfuls of mud for myself. I throw one in Gale's direction, but he easily dodges it. While he's bent over reloading his fists, I sprint to his side and smear the other handful on his head, working it into his hair like shampoo. But when I turn to run, he catches my waist and pulls me onto his lap.

"No!" I yell. I laugh and try to extract myself from his grip. "Let me go!" I shout.

Smiling, he says, "Yeah, right." And then he proceeds to plaster the wet, slimy dirt on my neck. I feel it ooze down my shirt and onto my chest.

Reaching to my side, I pick up more mud and chuck it at his face. It hits its mark perfectly. "Take that!" I say in triumph.

"You hit my mouth!" Gale sputters, letting go of me so he can wipe his face.

I scramble to my feet, but all the digging in the ground for ammunition has left the area very mushy, wet, and slippery. I feel my left leg sliding in front of me; I lean forward to try and counterbalance its effect, but then my right leg splays out to the side. The result is me ending up face first in the mud. I roll over and see Gale laughing heartily. Despite my predicament, I'm happy that he seems to be enjoying himself. It's been too long.

"Wow, you just caused way more damage to yourself than I could've ever done." He walks over to me and leans down by my side. "Are you okay?" he asks, trying to be serious, but he can't stop smiling.

I imagine what I must look like to him—I'm a pig wallowing in a giant puddle of thick, slimy, brown sludge. I laugh at the thought, causing mud to spray off my lips. That only makes me laugh harder.

Gale reaches down and wipes the mud mask from my eyes. "Only you can look beautiful, even when lying in a mud pit."

That stops the laughter. His hand sweeps across my nose and then lips, lingering there a little longer than necessary. I stare at his face. His lips are full and inviting; he's biting the lower one like he does when he aims his bow. I know he's lost in thought. My heart beats double-time. I swallow and take a deep breath, forcing the rationale side of my brain to take over. I cannot kiss him. I close my eyes and repeat those words to myself three more times.

Luckily, when my eyes open, Gale is gone from my side. He's in the pond, scrubbing away the dirt.

Despite the awkward ending to our mud war, it was nice to see him relax, let loose, and be playful again. Maybe things are about to change. Maybe I'll get the old Gale back.

"You plan on cleaning yourself up?" he asks as he exits the pond.

I nod, but my heart drops with the realization that he's back to serious Gale.

Later that day, after our clothes have dried and we've had a filling lunch of catfish, we sit side-by-side in the clearing next to the cabin. I lean back on my elbows, with my legs extended in front of me, concentrating on the cheerful melodies of the songbirds. Tilting my face up to the sun, I close my eyes.

Without thinking, I say, "Are you happy, Gale?"

"What?" he asks, clearly surprised by my question.

"Are you happy?" I open my eyes and look at him.

He shrugs. "I'm alright." After a brief pause, he continues, "But I can think of a few things that would make life better."

"Like what?"

He turns to me with that suggestive smirk of his. "I think you know one of them."

I ignore how his comment causes my heart to race. "What else would make things better?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does."

He stares at me with a very annoyed expression. "Let it go, Katniss."

"You want to go home." It's a statement, not a question. I know my assumption has been correct all along. He'll never be happy living in the woods.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter what I want. I've accepted this." His voice is deep and low. He doesn't want to have this conversation.

"Haymitch could still come."

"Sure."

Over the next few weeks, things remain about the same between us. Gale's down and I'm fairly content, my only complaint being Gale's attitude.

It's early morning and Gale lies motionless next to me, our faces inches from one another. His lips are parted slightly as he breathes evenly in a relaxed sleep. I can imagine running my fingers through his long hair. Waking him with a kiss. I sigh—why am I considering giving into temptation yet again? I'm starting to become alarmed by the frequency with which this is occurring. And part of me is wondering why I continue to fight it. I mean, if living in this cabin is the extent of our future, would it really be that terrible for something to develop between us? He clearly wants it. My body clearly wants it. And a relationship is one thing that would bring him some bit of happiness.

But then, like always, this train of thought brings feelings of guilt. Guilt for the life that Gale is missing. I still hold out hope that Haymitch will pay us a visit. That he'll tell Gale he can go home or to the Capitol, see his family, have a career in politics—everything he wants and deserves. Of course, if that time comes, I'm not sure what I'll do. There's nothing left for me in District 12 other than reminders of all the pain I've endured. And there's no way I'll return to the Capitol. That leaves me the options of another district or the woods. Right now, I'm leaning towards staying here in this little cabin. It's simple and easy. And it will always hold good memories for me—old memories of my dad and Gale, as well as new memories of the grumpy Gale.

He stirs next to me. Sometime during the night, his fingers found mine and he now holds my hand against his chest. He opens his eyes and looks at me.

Giving in to him, to us would be so easy. One kiss is all it would take. I feel my resolve crumbling and force myself to remember that Gale deserves better. He deserves more. As much as my body is screaming at me to kiss him, I know the immediate pleasure he'd receive would not outweigh the long term damage I could cause. I remain steadfast in my determination. I won't give him any sign of hope because it will just make things harder when Gale can finally move forward with the life he deserves. The life that won't include me.

"You look like you want to kiss me," he says with a gleam in his eye.

I'll never understand how he's able to read my mind. "In your dreams," I say, pulling my fingers from his.

"No, my dreams are way more interesting than a kiss," he replies with a smirk.

So, we start out the day as usual. I roll my eyes and stand, intent on lighting a fire.

The day progresses like every other day. We eat breakfast, we hunt, we eat lunch, and then we relax outside for a while. Gale is working on some of his snares as I try, unsuccessfully, to mend a hole in one of my shirts. As I do that, I whistle a tune absentmindedly, stopping occasionally to hear the response from the mockingjays. After a relatively easy string of notes, I stop, but the forest is quiet. Gale's head snaps up. I whistle an even easier set of notes, but again, we're surrounded by silence.

Gale and I jump to our feet, bows in hand. Something unusual has disturbed the birds. That is often our first indication we may be in danger. We scan the scenery around us, but see nothing. We edge back towards the cabin, keeping watch the entire time. When we're a few feet away, I hear snapping twigs, pounding footsteps, and heavy breathing. It's a person. Gale and I hold our ground, ready to defend ourselves if necessary.

But when the figure steps out from the trees, Gale and I drop our bows and run to him with open arms. It's Haymitch. He's finally come for us. And he looks like he barely survived the hike here. His face is ruddy, and sweat dampens the front of his shirt, despite the cool spring weather.

Gale shakes his hand and I hug him. We haven't seen another person in over ten months. My attitude towards Haymitch has always been mixed, part respect, part disgust, but I couldn't imagine being any happier than I am right now seeing him. Gale can move forward with his life. He can be happy again.

Haymitch rubs his chin. "I didn't think I'd find you here," he says honestly. "I can't believe you made it back from the Capitol." The shock is apparent on his face.

Poking me in the ribs with his elbow, Gale says, "Well, we did have a Hunger Games Victor—you didn't think she'd just let us die out here did you?"

My mouth drops at the complete shift in his mood.

Ignoring me, Gale invites Haymitch into the cabin. He drags the small wooden bench to the middle of the room and then sits next to me on the cot, as Haymitch lowers himself onto the bench.

"So, can we go home?" asks Gale, his nervousness visible on his face and in his tapping foot.

Haymitch meets our eyes, first mine and then Gale's. "Yes, but, there are a few things you need to know first."

"What?" I ask suspiciously.

He rolls his neck and sighs loudly. Gale's tapping becomes even quicker.

"There was a trial."

"That was expected," Gale says, shrugging his shoulders. The pace of his tapping betrays his relaxed façade, though.

"True." Haymitch pauses and looks around the small room, apparently taking it in for the first time.

"You two have really made yourselves a nice little place here. Very homey," he nods approvingly.

"Just wait to see what we do when we get back to the district," Gale says with a smile.

His words hit me like a sack of bricks to the chest. I jerk my head to the side so I'm staring at his profile. Why would he assume we'd do anything together once we go back? Why would he assume I'm going back? But I know the answer. I've always known. It's because he's had an expectation this whole time. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his incessant tapping and it's driving me crazy.

I lift my foot and slam it down on his. "Could you just sit still?!" I yell at him.

Haymitch tries to stifle a laugh.

Gale pulls his foot out from under mine. "What's your problem?!" He glares back at me.

"Must have been a fun ten months," Haymitch says, shaking his head. "It's a wonder you two didn't kill each other."

I narrow my eyes at Gale. I certainly don't want to argue with him about me future plans while Haymitch watches.

"What happened at the trial?" I ask gruffly, bringing us back on topic.

"You were found…" He looks between the two of us again and then finally finishes, "guilty of killing Coin."

I feel the blood drain from my face. How can Gale go back with a guilty verdict?

The tapping starts again. I glower at Gale, but he ignores me, all of his attention focused on Haymitch now. "But you said we can go back."

"Yes," he says, rubbing his chin. "You were found guilty with extenuating circumstances. We showed the video from Coin's office. And you had a lot of witnesses speaking on your behalf. Renel, Cressida, yours truly."

"So, what does that mean?" Gale asks.

"It means you killed her. But everyone can understand why you would do it after what she put you through."

"Will we be sent to prison?" I ask.

"Doubtful. Everyone assumed the two of you died in the forest. It was determined that if you were ever found alive, another hearing would be held for sentencing."

"So, you have no idea what's in store for us?" I ask incredulously. "And you expect us to just waltz back home?"

"No, I expect you to waltz back to the Capitol for the hearing."

"Easy for you to say when you're not at risk of being locked up for the rest of your life!" I yell at him.

Haymitch holds his hands up in surrender. "I know, I know. It's a risk. But the trial was televised and you'd be amazed at the level of support there was for the two of you. Everyone still loves the Mockingjay, even after that ridiculous promotion. It really didn't take long for people to put two and two together and realize Coin was threatening you." He shifts his weight on the bench and looks at Gale. "Plus, through some carefully calculated media leaks, we were able to show the country Coin's plan of an unprovoked nuclear attack on Eurasia. Needless to say, after that, most people were relieved you killed her so we weren't thrust into the middle of the next world war."

Gale nods. "So what kind of sentence do you think we'll get?" he asks. I can tell he's already weighing the risks and rewards.

Haymitch shrugs. "Maybe nothing. Maybe house arrest. Hard to say. But I don't think it will be anything too bad. It's going to be a jury of your peers, not the Cabinet, which should be helpful. There are still a few staunch Coin supporters in the Cabinet." He yawns and rubs his red-rimmed eyes. I just now realize how exhausted he looks. I can't even imagine how crazy things must have been for him the last few months.

He continues, "Honestly, I think people are going to be thrilled to see you alive, Katniss. There was an overwhelming sense of sorrow when you weren't found. You're still the image of what's good… what our country can become, whether you like it or not."

My jaw clenches in disgust. With finality, I say, "I don't like it. And, I'm not going back to that." I cross my arms over my chest defiantly.

Gale says, "Come on, Katniss. Don't make a rash decision. Let's think about this."

"Gale's right. As nice as this place is, do you really want to live here forever?" Haymitch asks, gesturing to the small room. "Plus an election is in full swing right now. No one's going to force you to do anything. After the hearing, you can fade away again."

I glance at Gale. He looks pensive. Haymitch raises an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"Can you give us a minute?" I ask him tersely.

He nods and stands. After he walks outside, I turn to Gale. "What are you thinking?"

"It would be nice to return home. I could see my family again. You could see your mother…"

"Not if we end up in prison."

"You heard Haymitch—we're not going to end up in prison."

"I heard him say that he doesn't know what the sentence will be."

"Katniss—be reasonable. We can't live here forever. We have to grab this opportunity. It's our chance to get our lives back!"

I jump up from the cot and stand facing Gale with my hands on my hips. "Why _exactly_ can't I live here forever?" I ask, glaring at him.

"Because that would be a miserable life! Never interacting with anyone else ever again? We'd go crazy!"

I stare at him in disbelief. "I don't like other people. Do you even know me at all?!" I ask, my voice rising.

He groans and rolls his eyes. "I know you better than anyone. And, while this may seem ideal now, it won't last. How are you ever going to have a family out here? Kids need to go to school!"

His words leave me speechless. I have no plans to start a family, to have kids. Where is this coming from?

He stands and reaches for my hand, but I step back, avoiding his touch. "Don't touch me," I say with quiet, brewing anger.

"You are beyond frustrating, Katniss!" He abruptly turns and stalks to the window.

We stand like that for a few minutes—me shooting daggers at his back, he gazing out the window, no doubt trying to get his anger under control.

"Is prison your only concern?" he eventually asks, not bothering to turn around. "Because if so, I promise I won't let that happen. If imprisonment is our sentence, we'll escape again. Run away. I'll get you out of there."

I gulp at the intensity of his words. He turns around, meeting my gaze. "You trust me, don't you?"

My anger begins to ebb as I take in his determined, beseeching face.

"But we worked so hard to get away from the Capitol, Gale…"

"Things are different now. We're not going back to the same place. And it's only for a few days. Then we can go home."

"You could go by yourself. Tell everyone I fell off a cliff or got eaten by a bear," I say, still grasping for an option that will allow me to avoid the Capitol.

"You know I won't leave you."

But I'll leave you. I'm planning on leaving you the first chance I get because you and I want very different things out of life. I can't tell him that right now. Not with everything going on.

"So, you're just going to put your future, your happiness in my hands? Thanks a lot, Gale. What a great friend you are." I tug on my lip and look at the white ash in the fireplace. I want him to be happy. But I'm not sure I can go back to the Capitol.

I face him again, and the pleading in his eyes is overpowering. He gave up everything for me. How can I deny him this?

Excitement flits across his face. He senses that he's close to changing my mind. "Please, Catnip. I want this."

And, in that moment, I know my answer. I owe him so much. I'll never be able to repay him for everything he's done. Even if I agree to this, I'll come up short. So, there really is only one thing I can say.

"Fine."

He engulfs me in a bear hug and kisses the top of my head. After a few moments, I hear Haymitch clear his throat from the doorway.

"When do we leave?" Gale asks.

"Tomorrow. I'll make the plans right now," he says, punching buttons into his communicuff. He walks back outside and from the window, I see him talking animatedly to someone on the other end. Plutarch? Paylor?

"Thank you, Catnip," Gale says quietly, wrapping his fingers around mine and breaking my concentration on Haymitch.

I shrug and unwind my fingers from his. "You'd do the same for me."


	33. Chapter 31

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted! Busy weekend... Anyway, this is just a short transition chapter, but I kind of like the interactions between K and G. Let me know your thoughts. And, as always, thanks for reading!**

* * *

The next morning, I'm awakened by a loud and unfamiliar sound, at least for this place. I rise in a panic, elbowing Gale in the process. He grunts, but sits up next to me.

"Sounds like the helicopter," he says with a yawn.

Sure enough, through the window, I see a helicopter lowering itself to the flat meadow surrounding the pond. It takes me a moment, but then everything falls into place. Haymitch's visit, the hearing, our trip back to the Capitol. I groan and lie back on the cot, covering my eyes with my arm.

But a low rumbly and nasally snore causes me to sit back up immediately. Haymitch is still asleep. In the middle of our floor. And Gale was supposed to be down there with him.

"What are you doing up here?" I ask accusingly, as my memory returns.

"Your screaming was keeping us up last night. Haymitch was ready to throw you outside."

I feel my cheeks reddening. "So, he saw you come up here?"

"Oh yeah. He might have made a few choice comments, too," he replies with a smirk.

"This day just gets better and better."

"Are the two lovebirds up?" Haymitch's rough voice drifts up to us from the floor.

I push Gale off the cot, and he lands on the ground with a loud thud.

"Seriously, Katniss?" he groans. "Why do I have to get hurt because you're embarrassed?"

"I'm going to talk to the pilot while you two work through your little lover's spat," Haymitch says with a wink towards Gale before heading outside.

I narrow my eyes. "What exactly did you two talk about last night?"

"Guy talk. You wouldn't be interested." He stands and starts assembling our backpack. "Cars, planes, guns…"

"For some reason, I don't believe that at all."

"Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep first, then" he says, shrugging his shoulders as a smile plays across his lips.

Ignoring him, I help gather the last few supplies and then we head outside to meet Haymitch and the pilot.

After boarding the aircraft, I look out the open door to our little cabin in the woods. I can't believe we're leaving the serenity of this place to go back to the Capitol. The pull of the cabin, the longing I feel to stay, is strong. Haymitch was right—Gale and I have built a nice place here. And although our relationship is anything but typical, we somehow managed to make it work. At least to work in a way that made me fairly happy. I glance at Gale and notice the spark in his eyes that I haven't seen in months. The thought of going home, really going home, is what makes him happy. Unfortunately, I worry the role he expects me to play in that significantly contributes to his happiness.

I sigh and look the opposite direction as we rise higher and higher into the sky, away from the comfortable life we had constructed. Gale reaches the short distance between our seats and laces his fingers through mine. This is the second time in two days he's done that and it makes me even more uncomfortable now than it did yesterday. It's as though he's somehow losing sight of our boundaries with all the excitement. I frown and pull my fingers free, but he just places his hand on my leg and squeezes my knee.

I knock his hand off and lean my head against the window to try and get a little more sleep. When I wake, I quickly realize I must have slept the entire trip because the tall, shiny buildings of the Capitol are visible on the horizon. And Gale's hand is wrapped around mine again.

I turn our hands over and stare at them in disbelief. Gale's alternating glances between the approaching Capitol and me, his face aglow.

"What the hell?!" I ask, pointing at our hands.

His face takes on a questioning look. "What?" he mouths. Then he points to headsets attached to the seats in front of us. He drops my hand and puts on the headset in front of him. I follow suit and immediately hear his voice in my ears.

"What'd you say?"

"Stop holding my hand!"

"Why?"

"Because we don't do that!"

"I hold your hand every night," he points out.

"That's different!" My anger is rising. I always knew our nighttime ritual would come back to hurt me.

"Not really…"

"Yes, because…"

Just as I'm about to explain exactly how it's different, an unexpected voice rings in my ears. "Sorry to interrupt, but we'll be landing in five minutes. Make sure your seatbelts are buckled and tightened."

I pound my head against the back of the seat. The pilot, and probably Haymitch, has heard everything we just said. I catch Gale laughing quietly beside me.

"How's it different?" a familiar gravelly voice booms.

Yep. Haymitch heard, too. Life was so much easier when it was just the two of us. I angrily snatch the headphones from my head, throw them on the floor in front of me, and scowl the short remainder of the trip.

As we fly low over the city and between buildings, I'm surprised by the changes that have occurred since we left. Scattered throughout the rubble and debris are construction crews loading up piles of cement, metal, and wood into large eighteen-wheeled trucks. And around nearly every damaged building is a spider web of scaffolding littered with people in hard hats and bright yellow vests.

Reluctantly, I put my headphones back on to ask Haymitch a question.

"Where'd all these people come from?"

"Mostly the districts, although a few Capitol folks have stepped up. The Cabinet agreed to redistribute some of the defense funds to encourage rebuilding. We've gone out to the districts and recruited quite a few people who would otherwise be out of work."

"Are the districts being rebuilt, too?" Gale asks, as the helicopter makes a sharp left heading straight for the Training Center.

"Yes, although the degree to which varies by district. Twelve has actually made the most progress," he says with a hint of pride.

The pilot pulls up on a lever and the helicopter quickly rises and crosses over the Training Center. I watch the familiar rooftop refuge pass below us and a melancholic nostalgia sweeps over me. This is going to be harder than I anticipated. I bite my lip and try to keep my emotions in check.

A few minutes later, we land in a clearing behind the Training Center, and Haymitch tells us that our regular rooms are ready. Apparently, plans for our hearing are still in limbo, but we're required to stay on the twelfth floor until we hear otherwise.

Gale and I head towards the back door of the Training Center while Haymitch walks in the other direction to circle around to the street in front. Before we even reach the door, the pilot has ascended and is flying straight towards the President's mansion.

Gale pulls on the doorknob and holds the door open for me. I take a deep breath and enter the Training Center once again. Silently, we walk to the elevators. I press the "up" button and stare at the cold, gray metal doors. They open and I enter automatically. My body is taking me to the right place without my mind having to think at all. In the elevator, Gale's hand brushes against mine, causing me to meet his penetrating gaze. He raises an eyebrow, and I know he's offering me whatever I need. His hand. His arms around me. A shoulder to cry on.

I take a step closer to him. He drapes his arm around me and pulls me tight to his side. I sigh because it's becoming increasingly obvious how much I rely on Gale. What's going to happen when he moves forward with his life and I do whatever it is I decide to do? I'll be forced to find my inner strength. I've had it before, surely I can get it back. Maybe that will actually be good for me. I've been taking the easy way out for too long now.

The door opens, breaking me from my reverie. Gale slides his arm off my shoulder and twists his fingers around mine. This time I don't object.

We take a step into the common room. It looks exactly like it did the last time I was here. The strobe light is still sitting on the coffee table. The same pale orange placemats line the dining room table. The curtains are closed, just like Peeta had done before we watched the promotion.

Gale exhales loudly. "Let's go to my room."

"Why would I do that?" I ask, confused.

"It's bigger."

"We've been living in a tent and the cabin, I think we're used to small spaces."

"Come on," he insists, pulling me in the opposite direction from what I'm used to.

I resist.

"Katniss, do you really want to go in there?" he asks gently.

I pause. My room. The room where I've shared countless nights with Peeta. The room where we spent our last night together. No, I absolutely do not want to go in there.

I turn slowly and allow Gale to lead me to the suite.

Once inside, Gale throws the backpack on the dresser while I investigate the large space. In all the times I've stayed in this building, I've never ventured into this room. It's at least twice the size of mine and has a sitting area with a couch and two side chairs facing the large picture window. The curtains are drawn revealing a panoramic view of the city from the river to the President's mansion. Opposite the door to the room is a narrow hallway that leads to a large bathroom, complete with double sinks and a bathtub.

As I'm admiring the marble vanity, I hear the elevator open. Gale's voice echoes through the space, but I can't make out the words. I backtrack through the hallway to see who's out there.

But I stop at the threshold. Standing in the foyer is Paylor, the forerunner for the next President of Panem. And she's looking at Gale with dark, provocative eyes.


	34. Chapter 32

Paylor is so focused on Gale that she hasn't noticed me yet. I silently slink back into the shadows of the room to watch their reunion. I always thought she was simply unprofessional whenever it came to him, but my opinion of her has now plummeted knowing what happened between the two of them. I have no doubt she'd make a great President, but she's not someone I want to be social with. Or someone I want Gale to be social with, for that matter. I inwardly groan. I need to stop thinking like that. If things go as expected, I'm leaving him in a few days and he can hang out with whomever he wants. I suppose I can at least hope he finds a more suitable woman, though.

They walk to the dining room table where she sets down two large, brown paper bags. Pulling out the chair at the far end, she sits and nods for Gale to take the chair beside her. Her fingers are on his arm instantaneously. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't look pleased either.

"I'm glad you're alive," she says simply.

Gale nods. "Do you have any insight into what our sentence will be?" he asks.

"No. That will be determined by the jury." She doesn't even try to reassure him like Haymitch did yesterday.

Gale finally looks at her fingers on his forearm. After a few moments, he says, "What are you doing here, Constance?"

Constance? It dawns on me that I never knew her first name, nor did I ever have the need to use it. I suppose she and Gale would be on a first name basis, though. I roll my eyes at the thought.

"Can I see you tonight?" she asks.

I gasp at the forwardness of her question. Luckily, neither of them appears to have heard me, as they're both concentrating intently on the other.

After a pause, Gale replies, "No," and finally pulls his arm away.

"Because of her?"

"Yes."

She shakes her head. "So, you're a couple now?"

He looks to the floor, breaking away from her gaze.

She laughs. "That's what I thought. When are you going to realize she doesn't reciprocate your feelings?"

The pain on Gale's face is visible, even from my vantage point, feet away. I cringe. Of course he continues to hold out hope, regardless of my determination to do nothing to encourage such ideas.

Despite his hurt expression, Paylor doesn't soften her tone. Instead, she says, "You know I'm not necessarily looking for a long-term commitment, Gale. If you ever change your mind, even if it's in the middle of the night, give me a call."

My mouth drops open. She runs her relationships, if you can call it that, the same way she runs her business. She's brutally honest, succinct, and leaves nothing open to interpretation.

"I'll keep that in mind," Gale murmurs, standing. She follows his lead and walks purposefully to the elevator.

As the doors open, she says, "I'll send up some toiletries later." She steps inside the small space. "You'll need to clean up before the hearing. No beard. A haircut."

The doors begin to close, but Gale sticks his arm in to stop them.

"Constance?"

"Yes?" I can hear the hopeful tone in her voice.

"Did you help us escape?"

"No." The hopeful tone has vanished. "I simply ordered the guards to look for you north and west of the arena because surely you wouldn't be stupid enough to head east, back towards your district."

Gale's mouth twitches, as though he's stifling a smile. "Thank you."

So she was in on it, too. I'm beginning to wonder exactly how many people Haymitch talked to.

Once the doors close, Gale walks back to the table and opens the paper bags Paylor left on the table. I move over to the sitting area in the bedroom, so he won't know I was listening. A few moments later, he enters the room.

"I come bearing gifts," he says, placing one of the brown bags on the dresser and then carrying the other one towards me.

"Gifts?"

"New clothes. From Paylor." He pulls a shirt out of the bag and throws it at me. It's nice. Really nice, actually. Soft flannel in muted browns and greens, not the typical colors of the Capitol. Gale reaches back into the bag and draws out another item. This time it's a pair of sturdy canvas pants. He throws those at me, too. He continues reaching in and throwing things at me until I'm covered by two long-sleeved shirts, three short-sleeved shirts, two pairs of pants, and countless pairs of socks.

"Alright, enough already!" I finally yell at him, laughing at all the clothes. I'm actually shocked by Paylor's generosity towards me. And the fact that she bothered to get clothes I would like, rather than the easy to find, typical Capitol attire.

"We're not quite done," he says with a wicked grin, staring into the bag.

"What else could possibly be in there?" I say, still laughing.

He folds down the top of the bag and throws the whole thing at me. I catch it in the air. Sitting down opposite me, he doesn't take his eyes off my face as unroll the top of the bag. When I part the two edges, it's immediately obvious why he's so interested in my reaction—Paylor even included pajamas and undergarments.

I set the bag at my side and don't give Gale the satisfaction of the embarrassed response he's expecting. "It's nice to see she was thorough," I say matter-of-factly.

He laughs anyway and then says, "I'm taking a shower."

When Gale returns, I take my turn in the shower. I let the hot water stream down my face and my back. I check the fancy dispensers, but they're still empty, so I opt for the utilitarian block of soap instead. This is the first time I've bathed with actual soap since the last time I was in the Capitol, months ago. Concentrating on removing the ground in dirt and grime helps take my mind away from Gale, the hearing, and what's going to happen between us. I scrub the creases around my elbows and knees until they're raw and tingling. Then I move up to my hair, massaging shampoo in and rinsing it out until the water finally runs clear.

After toweling off and dressing in my new clothes, I exit the bathroom to find Gale standing at the picture window, looking at the streets of the Capitol below us.

He turns and faces me. "Haymitch should be here shortly. Apparently the hearing has been scheduled."

We walk into the common area and sit in chairs opposite each other, waiting for Haymitch.

"So, what'd you think of my conversation with Paylor?" he asks, placing his left foot across his knee.

"How would I know what you talked about?" I make a conscious effort not to fidget in my chair.

"Because you were watching us," he says straight faced.

"No, I wasn't," I lie.

He leans forward in his chair. "I saw you, Katniss."

I roll my eyes. "Would you have said the same things, if you didn't know I was watching?"

"Yes," he responds without hesitation.

I sigh.

"Would you prefer I take her up on her offer?"

I consider his question carefully. No, realistically, the thought of that makes me sick. But, I don't want him to know that.

"You're a grown man. You're free to do whatever you want," I say evasively.

"That doesn't really answer my question."

I'm spared from further comment by the elevator doors opening and Haymitch stumbling through, his face ruddy.

It appears he's been busy celebrating our unexpected resurrection. He staggers to the couch and sits down clumsily. Once he's finally settled, Gale asks, "So, what's the news?"

He holds up a finger, lets out a loud belch, and then finally addresses us. "The hearing starts in three days. Until then, they'll be selecting the jury."

"Is there any particular reason you're so drunk?" I ask with disdain.

"I'm a working man now. I only get one day a week to drink. Sunday. That's today. I wasn't about to let you two distract me from that," he slurs.

"Good to know," Gale says. "So, where will this hearing be?"

"In the Cabinet's chambers in the President's mansion. I'll come by and pick you up that morning—make sure you get there safe and sound, right on time." He lets out another belch and lies back on the couch with his feet dangling off the end. "You don't mind if I rest here for a bit, do you?"

I ignore him and go back to the bedroom, turning on the television when I reach the sitting area. Every channel focuses on the presidential campaign. Debates, interviews, and promotional commercials are in a continuous loop. After only an hour, I know Paylor will win the election. She has the right presence. She appears intelligent, compassionate, and honest in front of the camera. The other candidates are constantly caught in lies and end up droning on and on trying to save their reputations, but only making the situation worse.

During a particularly heated discussion between Paylor and Maxim Groll about the stockpiling of nuclear weapons in District 13, Gale brings me dinner. We eat silently as we watch the ground-breaking events unfolding in our country. I'm amazed that the Nationalists' were able to pull off their plans flawlessly. I'm sure most of the credit goes to Paylor—she doesn't seem like someone who would accept failure. Or rejection.

"You ready for bed?" Gale asks, breaking my concentration.

I nod and after turning off the television, climb into my side of the bed. Gale watches me from the dresser. He opens a couple drawers and then throws something at me.

"Did you forget about your pajamas?" he asks.

I grip the soft, cotton pants in my fingers and then eye the tank top lying next to me. It would be nice to finally sleep in something other than stiff hunting pants. And they're really no different than my normal clothes, just more comfortable. Without a second thought, I retreat to the bathroom and change, again marveling at how nice Paylor was.

When I emerge, Gale is already in bed with the sheets pulled up to his chin. I slide under the covers and he wraps his arm around me, pulling my back against his chest. The bed is indescribably plush compared to the hard ground and flimsy cot we've been sleeping on. I tug the sheets up to my neck and revel in the flowery fragrance that wafts over me.

"Hmm… clean sheets," I mumble.

"Hmm… clean Katniss," Gale whispers in my ear.

I laugh and turn my head towards him. He's right, though. Rather than the mix of body odor and smoke that I normally get from him, I breathe in a gentle clean scent. It's refreshing.

"Much better," I agree and then drift off to sleep.

Light streaming through the window wakes me in the morning. I yawn and stretch my legs.

"Good morning," I hear from behind me.

"Morning," I reply. I roll over as Gale scoots away from me. When he stands, I notice that he's got nothing on but his boxers, which has become the norm since his brush with hypothermia. Apparently, in Gale's mind, that event broke down a boundary that had existed between us before then.

I immediately turn back over. "Didn't she get you any pajamas?" I ask.

"Nope. Unlike some people, she prefers me without pajamas…."

And there it is—the inappropriate comment of the day designed to completely embarrass me.

I pick up a pillow and throw it blindly in his direction.

"Not even close," he tells me, as a dresser drawer bangs closed.

I hear him pad off to the bathroom, and then the shower starts. I move out to the common area in search of breakfast, but stop when I pass the hallway to the bathroom. The door is wide open, steam rolling into the hall. I shake my head at his increasingly casual attitude towards modesty and discreetness.

I quickly avert my eyes and scramble into the common area. Haymitch is already up, eating breakfast.

I join him and reach for a roll from the center of the table.

"How you holding up?" he asks gruffly.

"Fine," I reply buttering my roll. I take a bite and am pleasantly surprised by the taste. It's still not the old Capitol food, but it's better than the flavorless, highly rationed food from District 13 that Coin brought with her.

"What's going on with you and Gale?" he asks.

I pause, roll halfway to my mouth. "Nothing," I say quietly, dropping the roll, my hunger having suddenly evaporated.

"Hmm…," he murmurs, but leaves the subject alone.

I notice another paper bag on the table. "What's that?" I ask, pointing to it.

Shrugging his shoulders, he says, "Someone dropped it off this morning. Said it was from Paylor."

I reach across the table and pull it in front of me. Opening the bag, I see it's the toiletries Paylor promised yesterday, including a razor for Gale and nice pair of scissors. Looks like she was serious about him cleaning up.

I close the bag and walk back to the bedroom to find Gale in the bathroom at the end of the hallway, dressed only in a towel and standing in front of the sink.

"More gifts from Paylor," I announce, holding up the bag.

"What is it?"

"Razor, scissors, toothbrushes… you know, luxury items," I say with a smile. I cross into the bathroom and drop the bag on the counter. He opens it and pulls out the razor and a canister of shaving cream.

"You're really going to shave off your beard?"

"Why? Do you like it?"

I shrug. "It could use a little grooming..."

He coats his left hand with shaving cream and begins covering his face. "I'll grow it back after the hearing," he says turning his face upward and to the right, making sure his neck has been fully lathered.

"Is Haymitch up?" he asks, running the razor up his neck.

I turn around, place my hands on the vanity, and then hoist myself onto the counter so I'm sitting facing him.

"Yeah. He looks much better than yesterday."

I watch Gale methodically rid himself of all his facial hair. Although his beard had gotten a little unruly, I know I'm going to miss it. And his long hair. They're both part of him. My memories of the past ten months have a bearded, long-haired Gale, not the one slowly materializing before my eyes.

"So, what do you think will happen at the hearing?" he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I sigh. "Who knows. Hopefully we won't have to speak, though."

"You'll do fine. Everyone loves the real you, not the manufactured Mockingjay." He drops the razor on the counter and then splashes his face with water, phase one of the transformation complete. He rinses the razor and holds it out to me. "Would you like to use this next?"

"I'm good, thanks," I say absently.

He reaches down and lifts the bottom of my pajamas revealing my very hairy shin. "Really?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I swat his hand away. "Yes, really," I say with an exaggerated scowl.

He laughs and then pulls the scissors out of the bag. Clutching a handful of hair, he starts chopping away haphazardly, leaving a ragged clump that sticks out awkwardly.

Alarmed, I grab his hand. "What are you doing?"

"Paylor said I needed to cut my hair."

"Yeah, cut it. Not hack at it!"

He shrugs. "It's not so bad."

My eyes grow wide.

"Is it?"

I nod.

He runs his fingers through the clump he just mangled, assessing the damage. "Hmm… My mom always did this for me."

I grab the scissors from his hand. "Sit," I order, pointing him towards the commode.

I've never actually cut anybody's hair, but I watched my mom do my dad's hundreds of times. And surely I can do a better job than Gale.

I layer small pieces of hair between my fingers and run the scissors along the top of my hand like my mother always did. I'm afraid of taking off too much so I go slowly. But after forty-five minutes and with a pile of wispy brown hair on the ground, I'm pleased with the final product. I left it a little longer on top so it still falls across his forehead and curls over his ears. Paylor will just have to live with that.

"You're all set," I say, setting the scissors on the counter. He stands up next to me and we both admire his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head to view different angles and then finally smiles.

"I like it. Thanks." Picking up the scissors, he turns towards me. "Can I repay the favor?"

"No!" I say adamantly. "My hair is fine."

"It's getting kind of long…"

I pull my braid to the front. He's right—it's almost to my waist now. I wrinkle my nose and contemplate what he's suggesting. Impulsively, I hold my braid out to him and say, "Do it quickly."

"I was kidding! I'm not cutting your hair!" he says, looking alarmed.

"No, you're right. It's too long. Just cut it straight across."


	35. Chapter 33

"Really? You want me to cut your hair?"

"Yes. Do it." I point to the base of my neck and say, "Right here."

He gently holds my braid straight out behind me and raises the scissors. I bite my lip as he opens the blades and places them around my hair.

"You're positive?"

I nod, and then before I can even change my mind, a two-foot long piece of braided brown hair lands on the floor. He runs his fingers through my remaining hair, unwinding it and causing wavy locks to rest on my shoulders and frame my face.

I barely recognize the two people in the mirror. From the look on Gale's face, I'd say he feels the same.

"You don't like it?" I ask, smoothing down stray pieces with my hand.

"I wouldn't say that," he whispers.

"What would you say?"

He gulps. "You look older."

Our eyes meet in the mirror—his are intense and appraising.

I don't like the direction his mind seems to be going, so I try to make light of the situation. "That's ridiculous. It's just hair."

Then, I pivot on my heel and rush out of the bathroom before Gale can say or do anything else.

The next couple days go by slowly with our confinement to the twelfth floor. Other than eating and sleeping, our only other option for activity is to watch the televised campaign coverage. But after a day, we're fully up to speed on the issues, where the candidates stand on the issues, and how the voting process will be implemented. As boredom sinks in, my mind inevitably wanders to thoughts of the hearing. I wish I could be as confident as Gale that everything will work out perfectly fine.

And, to make matters even worse, the usual bickering between me and Gale has escalated, probably due to the tedium of our days, my uneasiness about the hearing, and the continuous electrical current that has been running between us for months. Ever since we arrived at the Training Center, Gale's had a less than modest attitude—leaving the bathroom door open whenever he's in there, entering the bedroom wearing only a towel, holding my hand whenever we happen to be within a few feet of each other—but he's becoming even more cavalier now. He's started running his fingers through my short hair, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist while I brush my teeth, kissing my forehead when he tells me goodnight. Whenever I grumble about his lack of humility or pull away from his touch, he provides no reaction whatsoever. He's not embarrassed, he's not angry, he's not sorry. All of his affectionate contact is doing nothing for my steadfast resolve.

I'm thankful when the morning of our hearing finally arrives. Haymitch shows up as promised and leads us down the elevator to the foyer of the Training Center. When the doors open, we're met by two armed guards standing motionless across from us.

"What are they doing here?" I ask Haymitch, angrily.

"You have more important things to worry about," he says, pulling me to the front door. The guards follow closely behind us.

"They have us under surveillance?! I thought you said things would be different!"

"Well, you two did assassinate the President. You didn't think there'd be no security, did you?"

"Let's focus, Katniss. Anything we need to know or do?" Gale asks Haymitch nervously, reaching for my hand. This is the first sign of apprehension I've seen from him. Maybe he's finally realizing what a bad idea this was.

As we cross the small space between the Training Center and the President's Mansion, Haymitch looks at our intertwined hands and replies, "Yeah, no hand holding. No kissing. No mushy stuff. Everyone still thinks you're cousins. And, most of them are still grieving over the whole star-crossed lovers' thing and what happened to Peeta."

I inwardly recoil at his comment. By the implication of what he's saying. Does he really think I'm not grieving anymore? That I don't think about Peeta every single day?

Gale drops my hand and says, "Got it."

Haymitch glares at me, "And it'd be great if you could grow your hair back in the next fifteen minutes!"

"No one cares about my hair!" I snap back at him, but the look on his face tells me it has him concerned.

When we circle around to the front of the President's mansion, I'm shocked by the sight. There are throngs of screaming people lining the steps, the sidewalk, even the road. Media vans have pulled onto the grass. Under shade tents, news reporters hold microphones and read from teleprompters as cameramen record them.

The crowd begins chanting "Set them free! Set them free!"

Along the sidewalk, people have signs painted with sayings like "Katniss for President!" or "The Mockingjay saved our country!" My favorite is "Justice for Peeta!" If I weren't so scared by the sheer volume of people and out of control situation, I might actually find their support heartwarming.

Other people have cameras and are snapping photos of us as we push our way along the sidewalk. Haymitch grips my shoulder firmly and pulls me alongside him as he elbows his way through the masses. Every few seconds, I check behind me to make sure Gale is keeping up. He smiles whenever our eyes meet, but I can see the fear in them. He's finally worried about how all of this will end.

When we step through the doors of the mansion, it's like we've entered another world. A sane, quiet world. The guards close the doors behind us and I lean against the wall to calm my nerves. Gale stands in front of me.

"You okay?"

I nod. "You?"

He nods back.

After a few minutes, another guard leads us up the grand staircase to the floor above. We walk along the entire length of the mansion to the opposite end, and then he opens a massive wooden door for us. Haymitch walks in first, followed by me, and then Gale. The room is already full and everyone turns to us as the heavy door slams shut. Silence falls over the room, immediately followed by hushed whispers. Looking straight ahead, I follow Haymitch up the blue-carpeted aisle to a table and chairs at the front of the room.

"This is where you two will sit."

I pull out one of the chairs and take a seat. Gale joins me.

"I'll be right behind you," Haymitch, says pointing to an empty seat only a few feet away.

I nod, and then look to the collection of chairs on our right. They're currently empty, but must be where the jury will sit. I place my hands on my lap and notice they're shaking. Gale's foot is tapping. I close my eyes and take a couple deep breaths.

The sound of wood scraping on wood causes my eyes to snap open. A plump, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair is seated behind the desk at the front of the room. The crowd behind us falls silent immediately.

"Good morning," the man says. "I'm Art Grimbel, the Chief Justice Officer. I'll be presiding over this hearing."

He then goes into a long-winded explanation of the purpose of the hearing and asks Gale and I to confirm that we understand our convictions and why we're here today. Twenty minutes later, he finally allows the jury to enter.

They file in one by one through a back door. I look at each person's eyes to try and get some sense of what they're thinking. A few people meet my gaze and smile shyly, others blush and glance away. Two men narrow their eyes and flare their nostrils. The nervousness I felt earlier is only intensified after that. What if Haymitch was wrong? What if we don't just get a slap on the wrist?

As soon as all ten jurors are seated, Grimbel begins summarizing our earlier trial. At key points, he plays video footage of the actual trial and we get a glimpse of what was going on here while we were trudging a thousand miles through the woods. If I had to do it all over again, I'd still opt for the trudging.

After an hour, I begin to lose focus. The big words and legal terminology are too much, so I concentrate on the jury instead. They're all watching Grimbel intently. A woman in the front row is leaning forward in her seat, her arms on her knees. I can't help but wonder what she's thinking.

"I warn you, what you are about to see is graphic and disturbing." Grimbel's words surprise me. I look back at him and then the video monitor.

It shows the door to Coin's office. And then me and Peeta entering the office. I gasp, realizing what we're going to be forced to watch.

"Close your eyes," Gale whispers from beside me.

But, I can't. I'm like a moth attracted to a light bulb on a dark night. I know the damage this is going to cause, but I can't look away.

The scene seems to play in slow motion. The conversation I had with Coin. That brief moment when I looked back at Peeta and she grabbed the gun. My body flying through the air, trying to protect him. The bullet landing in his chest. His body crumbling to the floor. Me scurrying over to him. My anguish as I realized what happened. My tortured cries. Gale and Avery entering the office. And eventually, Gale carrying me away as a crying heap.

My face remains emotionless the entire time. I won't allow all these people, all the people throughout the country watching this on television, to get a glimpse into my soul. To see what this has done to me. But, unfortunately, no amount of resolve can stop the silent tears from falling. I continue staring straight ahead, as I feel the drops roll down my cheek and onto my shirt. I don't wipe them away, I don't move a muscle.

Gale's hand finds mine under the table and he gives me a quick, supportive squeeze.

"Let's take a break," Grimbel says once the video footage turns to static. "Meet back here in ten minutes."

Gale turns towards me and puts his elbows on the table. "Are you okay?"

I don't answer him. I continue staring straight ahead, sitting absolutely still. I'm afraid any movement, any words will open a dam that I've effectively constructed over the past few months.

Haymitch appears at the front of the table and looks at me with his head cocked to the side. "She okay?" he asks Gale.

"I don't think so." He leans over, turns my chair towards him, and then wraps his arms around my back, pressing my head into his chest.

Haymitch sucks in a loud breath.

"It's fine, cousins can hug each other!" Gale whispers to him through clenched teeth.

When Gale finally lets me go, I catch a glimpse of the jurors. Half of them are watching us. But it's not scorn playing out on their faces, it's sympathy. I'm not sure why, but that little realization helps me regain my composure. It's almost like we're on the same team, like they're hurting right alongside me. In fact, one woman pulls a tissue out of her purse and dabs the corner of her eye. She then calls a guard over and whispers something to him while handing him another tissue. He brings it to me and drops it on the table. I glance at the woman who is now pretending to be preoccupied with the hem of her shirt.

Gale senses the shift in my mood. "It will be easier from here on out."

"Maybe," I say. "Depending on what sentence they deliver."

He doesn't answer, letting me know he shares my fear.

But the rest of the day is easier, as Gale predicted. Cressida, Renel, Haymitch, and even Tallis speak on our behalf and ask for leniency. I'm somewhat surprised Paylor doesn't, but then again, I'm sure she doesn't want to risk her chances of becoming President. Grimbel also shows the video of us in the arena. Although I still harbor some resentment because I wasn't the one who killed Coin, watching Gale do it on the video does provide me with an immense sense of satisfaction.

By late afternoon Grimbel informs us that it's time for the jury to deliberate. They walk out of the room the same way they entered. Grimbel follows them, leaving me and Gale alone at the front of the room. I turn around and see the spectators filing out the back door

Haymitch is still seated. "Want to go back to the Training Center? It's no telling how long they'll be."

I shake my head. I can't image working our way through the massive crowd right now. Instead, Gale and I walk to one of the large windows on the side of the room and sit on the wide ledge, half facing each other. From here we can just barely see the mob outside and the media frenzy that's ensuing. I'm sure one of those reporters is currently describing my reaction to the video of Peeta being killed. Soon the whole country will know.

We're alone in the room except for Haymitch, so Gale rests his hand on my thigh. I cover his hand with my own, thankful for his presence. We offer each other sad smiles, but say nothing.

A little while later, Tallis brings us food, but Gale and I only pick at it, neither of us having much of an appetite. It's beginning to get dark outside and we're reconsidering heading back to the Training Center when Grimbel finally emerges from the door at the front of the room.

"They jury is ready," he informs us. "I'll let the media know that we'll reconvene in fifteen minutes." If he's aware of their decision, he gives nothing away.

Those fifteen minutes are torture. Knowing that our fate has been decided by other people and we can do nothing about it is simply unbearable. I'm just hopeful that with the amount of support we've seen today, things will go in our favor.

Finally, the room is full again with spectators, Grimbel, and the jurors. Grimbel calls the room to attention and then introduces the head juror, a middle-aged women with short, curly blond hair and wire-rimmed glasses.

She clears her throat and holds a piece of paper in front of her. Her cheeks are red and she looks anxious, which makes me even more nervous. Reading from the paper, she says, "We the jury, sentence Katniss Everdeen…" Her voice squeaks. She takes a deep breath and starts again. "We the jury, sentence Katniss Everdeen to forty hours of service to her country." She looks up from the paper and smiles at me.

The room behind me erupts in thunderous applause and cheers.

Community service. That's it! Haymitch was right. I exhale loudly and cover my face with my hands. I spread my fingers and look at Gale, who's beaming.

"You can go home," I whisper.

"We can go home," he corrects me.

I cringe slightly at his words, as Grimbel raises his voice. "Quiet, please! Quiet!"

After a few moments, the clamor dies down and he continues. "And the sentence for Gale Hawthorne?"

The head juror's cheeks become even redder, and she clears her throat again. "The jury was unable to reach a unanimous decision and would like to reconvene deliberations tomorrow morning."

Grimbel nods assent and says, "Very well. This concludes today's session. Have a good night everyone."

I sit paralyzed in my chair. Gale's sentence isn't the same as mine? It hasn't been decided? What does that mean? I search frantically through the jurors' faces, trying to make sense of it. But no one will meet my eyes. Even those who have been kind since first thing this morning. Panic sets in. I suddenly realize there's a very real chance that Gale's sentence could be much worse than mine.


	36. Chapter 34

**Dislcaimer: **

**This chapter has an intimate scene. If you'd prefer not to read it, stop about half-way through at the paragraph that starts "I gaze into his gray eyes...," skip over 15 paragraphs, and start reading again at "I flop back onto the bed..."**

**For those of you who do want to read it, how's that for a teaser?! **

* * *

"No!" I shout, jumping up from my chair. I sprint to the door where the jurors have just started leaving the room.

"Give me his sentence! He can do the 40 hours of service!" I scream. My whole plan has been to get Gale back to a normal life, but this jury is going to ruin that if they send him to prison. I can go to prison. It's not like I had much of a plan anyway.

The jurors stare at me in shock. Maybe fear. They're frozen in their spots, hesitant to move.

"Please," I say, moving from one to the next, hoping someone will take pity on me. "Please, I'll take his sentence!"

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around my waist and drag me to the middle of the room. The jurors exchange nervous glances and then scurry out the door. I tilt my head to see who's restraining me. It's one of the guards who has been sitting in the corner of the room all day. At least I gave him something to finally do.

"Sorry, Ms. Everdeen," he says amicably. "But we can't have you scaring the jurors."

Once everyone has cleared the room besides me, Haymitch, and Gale, the guard lets me go and apologizes again.

"Feel better after your little outburst?" Gale asks, rolling his eyes as he stands up.

"No," I grumble.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't need you to take my sentence."

I walk over to the window to assess the number of people still outside. It's a large group, but appears to be dwindling. We should be able to leave in a few minutes.

I turn back to Gale and Haymitch, who is still sitting, rubbing his forehead like he has an enormous headache.

"I thought we were getting the same sentence. How can they do this?" I ask.

"Well, I was convicted of murder. You were only convicted of accessory to murder. Pretty big difference," Gale explains like he's talking to a child.

"What?" I ask with confusion.

"Did you not listen to anything Grimbel said today?!" He's becoming exasperated with me.

"I caught things here and there," I say to defend myself when in all actuality, I paid very little attention. At the time, it didn't seem like it mattered.

I focus on Haymitch. "Why didn't you tell us this? You made it seem like we were a package deal!"

He shrugs. "I didn't expect it to play out like this."

"Didn't expect it to play out like this?! Gale could end up in prison! When it should be me! I was supposed to kill Coin, not him!"

I shift my furious glare from Haymitch to Gale and then back to Haymitch. Neither of them says anything.

I clench my fists in anger and look out the window again. The crowd has thinned substantially. I'm sure it's only a matter of minutes before my crazed outburst will be shown throughout the districts, if it hasn't already aired.

"Ready to go?" Gale asks softly from behind me.

I turn and walk down the aisle toward the door, not bothering to see if either of them follows. After stomping through the hallway and down the stairs, I open the main door to the mansion and am met by a flurry of flashes. I shield my face and aggressively push my way through the masses, not caring what they think anymore. I pick up speed until I'm sprinting across the lawn. A few photographers keep pace with me and try to snag another photo as I stop to open the door of the Training Center.

"Are you going to follow me inside, too?!" I lash out at them angrily. They shrink back and I groan, realizing this will not help the situation. I yank open the doors and take the very familiar trip up to the twelfth floor, by myself this time.

I go immediately to the bedroom, change into my pajamas, and fall onto the bed, still fuming.

A few minutes later, Gale enters the room and lies down next to me. I stare at the ceiling.

"It's going to be okay," he says.

"Really? You don't mind spending the rest of your life in a prison cell?"

"It probably wouldn't be for the rest of my life. Maybe a few years."

I turn on my side so I'm facing him. "Why are you taking this so lightly?"

"Why are you taking this so hard?" he counters. "Frankly, I'm surprised to see how much you care," he adds with a smile.

"Your life shouldn't be over because of me!"

"It won't be over," he says quietly, reaching for my hand.

After a few moments, he continues, "So, does this mean you'll wait for me if I'm incarcerated? You're not going to find another guy while I'm stuck there?"

He's trying to be funny, but I'm not in the mood for it. I scowl in his direction.

He drops my hand and moves to the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. "You know," he continues. "This could be my last night as a free man for a long time."

I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He lifts his shirt over his head and throws it on top of the dresser. Then he reaches down and unbuttons his pants. "So, we should probably make the most of it, don't you think?" I don't look away, like I normally do, when he steps one leg and then the other out of his pants.

How did things end up like this? Gale's life could essentially be over because of his stupid decision to help me. Even if he's not sentenced to prison, I plan on leaving him, knowing it will break his heart. So, either way, he loses. How I can I do that to him? Am I really that callous? But what is the alternative? Unfortunately, that's the easiest question to answer—give in to what he wants. Commit to him. Forever.

Gale crawls back into bed and cups my chin with his hand. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"You don't want to know," I murmur.

He lowers his face so that his lips are mere inches from mine. "I think I do."

I gaze into his gray eyes and know that I've already made the decision. I hook my hands in his hair and pull his lips to mine. The effect on my body is immediate—all the restraint I've had the last few months dissolves, leaving me wanting and eager. He shifts his weight so he's poised above me, balancing on his elbows. My heartbeat becomes irregular, my breathing shallow. I deepen our kiss, trying to quench the insatiable need that is building inside of me.

My fingers move on their own. Exploring every part of his body. Every part that has teased and tempted me for the past few months. They move down his neck, over the well-defined contours of chest and abdomen, and then around his waist to the scars crisscrossing his back. He groans deep in his throat and lowers his body on top of mine. I gasp as the weight and heat of him sends a shiver down by spine.

I feel his lips curl into a smile.

"Why did you make me wait so long?" he whispers into my ear.

I gulp as he nibbles on my earlobe and then traces gentle kisses down my neck to my collarbone. He follows the curves of my body, his fingers trailing behind his lips.

My legs wrap around his, trying to pull him even closer. My back arches, inviting him in. He greedily accepts the hollow at the base of my throat and then moves his lips lower, his fingers gently pulling my tank top out of the way.

My fingers dig into his back as the scorching heat deep in my belly begins to flood the rest of my body. He lifts his head and grips my face between his hands.

"I. Love. You," he says, punctuating each word and boring his eyes into mine.

My body reflexively tenses at his words. I try to turn my head, but he holds me steady, forcing me to look at him. His eyes, which were dark with passion only seconds ago, have turned cloudy, allowing me to see the full depth of his pain. I inwardly chastise myself for my reaction. I curl my fingers around his hair and pull his face to mine, trying to erase the damage I've caused. I tug eagerly on his lips, but he doesn't respond.

"Gale," I whisper. "Kiss me… please."

He pushes himself up on one elbow and regards me quizzically. I grab his arm and try to pull him back on top of me, but he doesn't move. Instead, he says, "I think we should revisit this when you're not so emotional."

"What?" I ask breathlessly.

"I don't want our first time to be out of anger or guilt or whatever it is you're feeling right now."

Right now I'm feeling a lot of things but anger and guilt are not on the list. Okay, if I'm honest with myself they're on the list, but very low on the list, under a lot of other, more urgent feelings.

I sit up and try kissing him again. I trace my fingers along his chest, over his abdomen, but he doesn't respond. I run my hand along the top of his boxers—he draws in sharply, but doesn't make any attempt to rekindle what we had a few moments ago.

I flop back onto the bed in defeat.

"Sorry to disappoint," he says with a smirk, lying down next to me.

I roll away from him, but he sidles up right behind me and pushes my short hair off my neck. He kisses my shoulder and then drapes his arm over my waist in our normal sleeping position. "You know, I could get used to this new side of you, Catnip."

I lock my fingers around his and pull them to my belly. He slides ours hands upwards, under my shirt, and I'm momentarily optimistic that he's changed his mind. But, then he stops at the base of my ribs. I sigh. He laughs.

Eventually, my heart rate slows and I'm able drift off to sleep.

The next morning, Gale wakes me by kissing my cheek, eliciting a deluge of memories from the night before. I was so willing to commit to him last night. Do I still feel that way today? Do I have a choice now? As hard as leaving him would have been before, it will be nearly impossible now. I broke my rule. I gave him hope.

I decide to put that topic on hold as the memory of the more pressing issue resurfaces—Gale's sentencing. I roll towards him and notice that he's glowing.

"You shouldn't look so happy. This could be the end of your life."

"Don't be so dramatic," he says and then kisses me squarely on the lips.

Apparently, in Gale's mind, we've broken through another boundary and he can kiss me wherever, whenever he wants. Because, of course, in his mind we're together now. In his mind, I hurdled that boundary first and at full speed, clearing it like a top-notch athlete. I take a deep breath.

"Hmm… you were a little more receptive last night," he muses.

I lightly kiss him back. "Sorry, I've got a lot on my mind right now."

He climbs out of bed. "I'm taking a shower. Care to join me?"

I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. "Um… I think I'll pass," I finally mumble. "Thanks, though."

He grabs my arm and drags me across the bed so I'm right next to where he's standing. Leaning over, he kisses me again, lingering a bit longer and causing my heart rate to ratchet up a couple notches.

"Are you sure I can't change your mind. This could be my last hour as a free man."

I roll my eyes. "You've already used that one."

He laughs and saunters to the bathroom, happier than I've ever seen him. Much happier than he should be given the news we're waiting to hear.

Once we're both showered and dressed for the day, we wait in the common room for word that the deliberation is complete. We turned on the television at first, but quickly found all the stations had switched from campaign coverage to our hearing. After Gale got another good chuckle at me harassing the jurors, I turned it off.

We've been sitting in silence for three hours now. At least four times an hour, Gale gets up, paces between the couch and the window for a couple minutes, and then sits down next to me again and holds my hand.

After his most recent excursion around the room, he says "Maybe we should just go over there."

"You'd rather sit in that awful room than here?"

"What if they forgot to call us? Maybe it's already been decided and we just didn't hear about it."

"I'm sure they'll figure out a way to let us know."

"Maybe it's on the TV. Can we turn it back on?"

I groan. "If they show me again, I'm turning it off immediately," I warn.

Just as I press the power button, the elevator dings. We both spring to our feet. My palms are sweating, my stomach is churning, my mouth is completely dry. The anticipation is like a thick fog of noxious fumes, threatening to suffocate me.

Finally, the doors open and Haymitch steps out.

"So?" Gale and I ask at the same time.

He holds his hands up in front of him. "I don't know their decision. All I know is they're announcing it in half an hour. We need to head over there now. That is if you can manage to keep your composure today, sweetheart."

I scowl at him, and then we all board the elevator. The trip over is similar to the day before, although I get the impression that the journalists are giving us a slightly wider berth, probably afraid I'm going to snap at any moment. When we enter the Cabinet's chamber, I follow Gale to the front, but Haymitch grabs my arm.

"Not so fast. You're sitting with me today."

I glance to Gale anxiously.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," he says.

When we're both seated, he turns his chair around and leans towards me. I follow his lead. Placing his mouth against my ear, he whispers, "If this turns out badly, wait for me where I shot the doe. Do you remember that bluff?"

I nod.

"Take the backpack and grab any other supplies you can get. Make sure no one follows you. I'll meet you as soon as I can."

I nod again, but my throat constricts. Despite his fairly confident exterior, he's just as afraid as I am. He has to know there's no way he'll be able to escape, though. They'll have guards watching him all the time. He'll never get the opportunity to slip away. He'll probably be taken into custody today. Right after the sentence is read. My stomach drops as that realization hits. He may be taken away from me forever in just a few minutes. My hands begin shaking. Gale brushes my leg lightly and then turns around. I close my eyes and concentrate on taking slow, deep breaths.

A few moments later, Grimbel enters the room and welcomes everyone back. Looking directly at me from above the rim of his glasses, he says, "Ms. Everdeen. We are happy to have you here today; however, should you feel the urge to have another outburst like yesterday, you will be removed from the premises. Do you understand?"

Feeling like a reprimanded schoolchild, I nod solemnly. Gale's shoulders bob up and down in front of me and I know he's laughing. I fight the urge to kick his chair.

Grimbel continues to make a few more announcements. The whole time my nervousness escalates. I look down in shock at my foot tapping on the floor. It's in perfect time with Gale's foot a few feet in front of me. I slam my hand on my knee to stop it, but my shaking palm and twitching fingers are too distracting. Instead I wrap my arms around my chest and let my foot tap rhythmically with Gale's. Haymitch sighs loudly at my side, but I ignore him.

Finally, the guard opens the door and the jurors march to their seats. The head juror stands and pulls out her sheet of paper.

"We the jury sentence Gale Hawthorne to 200 hours of service to his country."

I can't believe it. Community service. That's it. All that worry for nothing. I cover my mouth with my hands. Haymitch squeezes my shoulder. Gale turns around and smiles at me. The immense sense of relief is liberating. I feel like a hundred pound weight has been lifted from my back. Gale's life is not over because of me.

After Grimbel's closing comments, the spectators slowly begin milling around the room. A few news crews approach us, but Haymitch successfully sidetracks them so we don't have to be on camera. I want to talk to Gale, but there's a constant stream of people approaching us to tell us how brave we were, how proud they are of us, how sorry they are about Peeta. After twenty minutes, I'm about ready to just walk away from everyone when I recognize a face in the line. I excuse myself and approach Cressida.

"Thank you," I say simply. I'm not sure where we'd be today without her.

"No, thank you. For everything you did for our country."

"You know I had a selfish motive."

She smiles. "I don't believe that was your only motive. You're a good person."

"Sorry to interrupt." An authoritative voice sounds behind me.

Cressida nods politely and bids us farewell. I turn around to find Paylor standing there.

"We need to talk, Katniss," she says, guiding me towards the door. "In private."


	37. Chapter 35

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this-crazy work hours the past couple days. Anyway, here it is. Let me know what you think. And thanks for reading!**

* * *

I follow Paylor out of the room and into a nearby stairwell. It's small and musty-smelling, like it hasn't been properly aired out or cleaned in years. When Paylor shuts the door, I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the relative darkness. A few stray beams of light filter through the opening in the center of the stairwell allowing me to slowly begin to make out details. The banister is metal, very functional, not ornate like the rest of the mansion. The walls are unpainted cinderblock. I look to my left at the flight of stairs going down and notice they're wooden and look very old, each step covered in a thick layer of dust.

Suddenly, I'm nervous. I've never felt threatened by Paylor, but being alone with her in this place that is clearly never used is a little unsettling. I turn back to face her and find she's holding her chin between her thumb and forefinger, as if contemplating where to start.

"I'm happy the hearing turned out so favorably for you and Gale", she finally says, completely surprising me.

"Um, thanks," I reply, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

"I hope you realize how lucky you are," she continues. "How lucky Gale is."

I nod.

"You know he has great potential, don't you?" She folds her arm across her chest.

I nod again, suddenly wary of where this conversation is headed.

"He's a natural leader. Would make one hell of a politician."

I swallow, trying to clear the lump that is forming in my throat.

"Had he been incarcerated, there's no way he could have come back from that. As it is, it's going to be an incredibly difficult uphill battle for him to restore his reputation. Do you understand what I'm saying, Katniss?"

I nod. She's clearly blaming me for everything and wants me to fully realize how close I came to ruining his life. Like I need her to tell me that—I think the same thing every day.

She continues, "I want him on my campaign. The polls look good; I'll likely be the next President. That should help him. Give him the exposure he needs."

I have no doubt she'll be the next President, and I'm not at all surprised she wants Gale by her side.

She tilts her head, studying my reaction.

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask. "Seems like Gale's the one who needs to hear it, not me."

A wry smile spreads across her face. "Yes, one would think that. Unfortunately, your influence over him is a bit… hmm… shall we say, all encompassing?"

I recoil at her words, not quite sure what she's insinuating.

"You're a bad influence," she says simply, presumably to help me understand.

"You're mistaken," I say, suddenly defensive. "I don't tell him what to do."

"No, but he makes bad decision after bad decision whenever you're around."

Bad decisions like following me to the arena.

"Do you really want to be responsible for causing any more damage to Gale's life?" she asks.

Her words slice through my heart. I know she's right. He's lucky he wasn't killed by Coin or one of the guards. He's lucky he doesn't have to live a secluded and isolated life in the woods. He's lucky he's not being taken into custody right now. But things should get better. We're essentially free. He can go wherever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"I won't cause any more damage," I say too forcefully, but I'm not sure whether it's to convince myself or Paylor.

She smiles. "Sounds like we're on the same page, then." Abruptly, she changes the subject. "Where are you doing your service requirement?"

"I-I don't know."

"How would you like to visit your mother in District 4? Volunteer at the hospital where she works? I've already called her—she's very excited to see you."

I swallow around the lump that is growing even larger. "Okay."

"And Gale can volunteer on my campaign."

"He won't stay without me," I say quietly.

"I'm sure you can find the right words to convince him" she says, tightening her lips slightly. "Because we all just want what's best for Gale, right? Give him the chance to get his life back in order. A successful career. A family."

I stare at her impassively.

"Or are you ready for that Katniss? Have you already moved on from Peeta after such a short time?"

Her words hit hard—go straight to that permanent void in my chest. She's right. What have I been doing? How did I kiss Gale last night? She knows that I'll never be able to love Gale the way he deserves to be loved.

"Do you think you'll be able to convince him to stay?" she asks.

I nod numbly. I just need to get out of the suffocating stairwell. Away from her probing eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I finally answer in a hoarse whisper. Smiling, she opens the door and leads us back into the hallway where people are milling around, still excited about the outcome of the hearing.

She looks over her shoulder at me, "Oh, by the way, a helicopter is waiting for you outside the Training Center. Don't be long."

I jerk to a stop. I need time to think about how I'm going to break this to Gale. What I'll say. How I'll handle the pain I'm going to cause him. There's no way I can leave right now.

A warm hand presses against the small of my back and then Gale is at my side, our shoulders touching.

"Where'd you and Paylor go?" he asks, watching her walk away from us, shaking hands and smiling as she passes people in the crowd.

"She wanted to talk to me. Tell me how happy she was things turned out well," I say in a monotone, not quite believing what I'm about to do to him.

He cocks his head to the side, inspecting my face. He knows there's more to the story, but apparently chooses to ignore it for now.

"I thought we could go back to the Training Center and celebrate our new found freedom," he says, with that suggestive smirk of his.

I nod because we need to get out of here. Get alone so I can break the news to him.

He leans in to me and brushes my hair from my face. His lips caress my ear as he whispers, "I promise I won't disappoint you today."

That comment breaks my concentration and causes blood to rush to my cheeks. He smiles at my reaction, before leading us down the hallway. We pass Paylor and I see the scorn brewing in her eyes. She knows I haven't told him yet.

As soon as we're in the elevator at the Training Center, his lips find mine, taking me by surprise. I respond without thinking.

He cradles the back of my head with his hands and pushes me against the wall with his body. His fingers begin moving down my neck, over my shoulders. Then they stop at the top button of my shirt.

I pause, the rationale part of my brain finally taking control again. "Gale, we need to talk."

"We can talk later," he whispers, undoing the first button and moving down to the second.

I gulp and know I have to fight the intense feelings washing over me. As much as I want to, I can't let this happen. I have to listen to Paylor.

"Gale, really, there's something I need to say."

"It can wait." He nuzzles my neck.

The elevator stops, dinging as the doors slide open. He moves his hands down to meet mine and walks backward into the common area pulling me with him.

I take a deep breath. "I need to tell you about my conversation with Paylor."

"_That's_ what you want to talk about? That can definitely wait," he says, turning around, dropping one of my hands and pulling me towards the bedroom by the other.

"No, it's important."

"It can't be as important as what I have in mind."

He stops when we pass through the threshold of the bedroom and kicks the door closed.

"Now where were we?" he asks, his fingers reaching for my buttons again. I grab his hand and hold it steady against my chest.

"Paylor's arranged for me to do my community service in District 4. At the hospital where my mother works."

"That was very kind of her," he says, kissing my cheek.

I nod.

"So, when do we go?" His warm lips continue to press against my face, moving closer and closer to my mouth.

I gulp. "Today," I whisper.

"Hmm," he murmurs, his free hand sliding up my neck.

"I go today," I say more forcefully. "Immediately, actually. The helicopter is waiting."

He freezes and stares at me with piercing eyes. "I'm coming with you."

He drops his hands and moves to the dresser. He begins frantically pulling clothes out of drawers and piling them into the backpack.

"Gale, stop," I say quietly.

He ignores me and continues stuffing clothes into the bag even though it's apparent there's no way everything will fit.

"Gale, please, let's talk about this."

He finally stops and turns to me, his distress apparent.

"Are you trying to leave me?" he asks accusingly.

"It's just…"

"Yes? Please explain it because I sure don't understand!" His voice is rising.

"It's complicated…"

"No. It's really not. I love you. You… feel something for me. Usually, that's enough for a relationship!"

"It's not that simple."

"What the hell are you talking about?! Yes, it is. Our lives are finally simple. No one's threatening you. We're free. We can go home!" He bangs a drawer shut and moves on to the next one. "This is what we've been hoping for! And now you don't want it? You're just going to run away from me when things are finally going our way?" He slams the drawer without having pulled anything out. "Sometimes I think I'll never understand you!"

I sit on the bed quietly, while he begins pacing in front of me, his face becoming red with anger.

After three trips across the room, he finally breaks the tense silence. "So, what's your plan? Stay in District 4?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't really made a plan beyond the next week or so."

"Do you want to live in our little cabin? Is that the problem? You don't want to go back to the district?"

"Maybe," I admit honestly.

"With or without me?"

I bite my lip. Of course I want him there, but Paylor's words echo through my mind.

"_With or without me_?!" he screams, causing me to cringe. His eyes dart around the room. He's agitated and angry. Very angry.

"I-I don't know."

"And when do you think you will know?" he asks with contempt.

"Please don't be mad at me. I'm trying to help you," I say quietly. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to ruin the rest of your life. You have promise. You could have a great future. You could find a nice woman who can give you what you need."

He rubs his eyes and groans. "You know I don't want anyone but you! And what kind of future could I possibly have if you're not by my side?!"

"No, Gale, please. You said you didn't have expectations."

"I'm so tired of this Katniss!" He throws the backpack on the bed. "I see the way you look at me. The way you reacted to me last night! I know how you feel because I feel the same way. The only difference is that you refuse to let yourself be happy. If someone else isn't creating turmoil in our lives, you have to manufacture it for us!"

"No, I refuse to hurt you!" I scream back at him, clenching my fists at my side.

"And you're doing a stellar job of that!" he spits out. He punches the wall, leaving a large dent in the drywall, which causes me to flinch. "We've spent practically every moment of the last year together. We've seen the best and the worst in each other, and I am sure, surer than I've ever been about anything else, that I want to be with you for the rest of my life. You're telling me you don't feel the same?"

I watch him with a blank face, willing myself not to break down. He stares at me for what feels like minutes as his face transforms from anger to disbelief.

"Good to know. So, what? We say our goodbyes and go our separate ways?"

I remain silent. He continues staring at me until I can no longer meet his eyes.

"Okay, then. Goodbye. Have a fantastic life, Katniss," he says slowly, fury seeping into each word. Then the door slams, and I wonder if I'll ever see Gale again.


	38. Chapter 36

**A/N: I think this chapter is a little boring, but felt like I needed to show what K was going through. What do you think?**

* * *

It's been four days since I left Gale. Luckily, during the day, I'm busy with my volunteer work at the hospital, so I don't have much time to think about what I did. That's where I am right now, scrubbing dirty plate after dirty plate. I'm grateful to Paylor for at least arranging my service to take place in the cafeteria, rather than the patient wards. I'm not sure I could've dealt with sick and injured patients for a week.

Of course, dealing with my coworkers is another story. The hushed whispers started the minute I walked through the door and haven't let up since. I try to ignore them the best I can, but I'm beginning to lose my patience with these people.

"Can you hand me the detergent, please?" I ask Lyndi, a young brunette who seems to be the ringleader of the gossipers.

She holds the bottle out to me above the metal barrier between our sinks, but continues grasping it as I try to pull it away.

"I heard you killed one of Coin's guards with your bare hands," she says, her eyes wide. "Did you?"

"No." I pull the bottle harder and she lets go.

"Is your own mother really afraid of you?"

"No."

"Is it true you and your cousin had an illegitimate child while you were living in the woods?"

I glare at her. "No," I say with as much vehemence as I can put into a two-letter word.

"That's too bad," she says, turning to the other girls. "I'd sure be willing to have his baby." They all laugh like she's the funniest person in the world.

I fight the urge to spray her with the hose. Instead, I say, "Sorry, you're not his type. For some reason, gangly, catty, and loathsome doesn't really do it for him."

I step to the row of sinks on the other side of the room. I don't bother looking behind me, but by the silence, I'm assuming I struck a nerve. The rest of the day is blissfully quiet. No more inane questions and no more whispering. Perhaps I should've insulted Lyndi earlier.

Once my shift is over, I head back to my mother's house. I really wish I could work around the clock because it's in the evenings when feelings of guilt begin to consume me.

"Katniss?" my mother asks from the kitchen when I open the front door.

"Yes."

"Are you hungry? I've made dinner."

"No." I turn left down the hall, intent on changing out of my uniform and then retreating to the woods, like I do every night.

But as soon as I slide my arms through my hunting jacket, my mother is standing at the doorway to my room.

"Please join me for dinner," she says quietly. "We've barely talked since you've been here."

Sadness makes the wrinkles of her face appear even deeper. She's been trying to work on our relationship ever since I arrived, but I keep pushing her away. I've never relied on her for anything, and I don't need her now. All I need is some time alone in the woods.

"I'm kind of busy," I say, lacing up my boots.

"We've got enough game to feed us for a week."

She walks across the room and reaches for my hands. I tense at her contact.

"I'm worried about you. Are you okay, Katniss?"

Her words cause my head to snap up. I've always been the strong one. The one who can get through anything. The one who kept our family alive when she was weak and incapable.

"Where are you going after fulfilling your service requirement?" she asks.

I pull my hands from hers. "I don't know." I grab my bow from the closet. "I'll be home late," I say walking towards the door, intentionally ignoring her sigh.

As soon as I enter the forest, I take a deep breath and try to relax. These woods are somewhat calming, but they definitely aren't my woods. The trees are different—conifers, not the deciduous maples, oaks, and poplars I'm used to. Plus every surface is green; the ground's littered with ferns, the tree trunks are covered in moss, and even the rocks are coated with feathery green lichen.

Like usual, I stay out as long as I possibly can. But when the sun sinks below the horizon and the fireflies begin flitting in front of me, I know I need to return before twilight turns to night. I walk slowly, my dread increasing with each step because I'm well aware of what's in store for me.

As predicted, tonight is no different than any of the others. Without Gale by my side, I haven't been able to sleep more than a couple hours a night. I wake up screaming and there's no one around to comfort me. Even more disturbing is the fact that my nightmares have changed. While I still have, and will probably forever have visions of indescribable torture inflicted onto me or Peeta at the hands of Snow, Coin, or various muttations, it's the nightmares involving Gale that hurt the most now.

That's the nightmare I had tonight. There were no words or sounds in that dream, just Gale's grief stricken face when he realized I was leaving. I'm still breathing heavily when I hear a sound outside my room. The hall light turns on and I see the shadows of feet in the small gap under the door. I expect my mother to enter the room, but she stays out there, in the hallway. After a few minutes, the light turns off and she disappears.

I take a few deep breaths and try to fall back asleep, but I know it's futile. All I can think of is how much I hate myself for the pain I've caused Gale, especially after everything he did for me. That's what plays through my mind over and over again, as I stare into the blackness for hours.

When the sun finally rises, I crawl out of bed, completely exhausted. I hear my mother in the kitchen and smell a familiar scent, but one that is out of place in this setting. I pad into the kitchen and find her standing in front of the stove. Stepping beside her, I see bacon sizzling in the frying pan next to a pile of scrambled eggs. Bacon is a delicacy—one reserved for the wealthy—and something I've only ever had in the Capitol.

"What's this?" I ask.

"I thought we should have a nice breakfast."

"Why?"

"Because it's your last day of service." After a moment, she quietly adds, "And I don't know when I'll see you again."

The emotion in her voice makes me uncomfortable. As well as her very kind gesture. The bacon must have cost her a week's salary. And the eggs aren't cheap either, although I suspect she was able to trade some of the game I've been bringing home for those.

"Please sit," she says pointing to the small table in her cramped kitchen.

I do as she suggests and allow her to pile eggs and bacon on a plate in front of me. She gives herself a small helping and then sits across from me.

"Where's Gale?" she asks, pushing food around on her plate.

"The Capitol."

"Are you planning on meeting up with him?"

"No."

I stuff a piece of bacon in my mouth so I have an excuse not to elaborate on my answer. The warm, crunchy saltiness is delicious.

She looks up at me. "You've always been best friends, and I was under the impression that maybe something more had developed since he helped you in the arena."

I choke on the bacon. Does she really think I'm going to talk to her about Gale? I've never talked to her about anything. Suddenly, the food doesn't taste quite as good now that I realize she's using it as a way to make me talk.

I take a sip of water.

"I guess I was wrong," she says shrugging her shoulders.

"Yes," I agree, shoving my fork into the eggs.

"So, you'll be leaving tonight then?"

I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. I hadn't planned on leaving. I have no money and the thought of hiking across the country by myself isn't very appealing. Plus I have no supplies—I'd be lucky if I made it a week or two.

"No," I say in response to her question.

Her eyes light up in surprise.

"But soon," I say to make her aware that our living situation is not a long-term solution.

After finishing our awkward breakfast, I quickly shower and head off to the hospital. When I enter the cafeteria, the shift supervisor pulls me aside. He offers me a full-time job, saying he recognizes a good work ethic when he sees it. It's probably more that he appreciates an employee who would rather wash dishes than gossip with coworkers. As much as I don't want to spend any more time with Lyndi or her gang, I know I need the money if I'm ever to leave this place. I reluctantly agree to his offer.

The next six weeks go by uneventfully. I remain antisocial with my co-workers, I avoid my mother as much as possible, and I get very little sleep. My body is becoming haggard—dark circles line my eyes and clothes hang off my wilting figure. But, I've finally saved up enough money to buy a train ticket. Although I've struggled with where to go, I think the answer was always in my heart—the cabin by the pond is the only place for me. Hopefully that is the one place where I'll be able to find a little peace.

My mother walks with me to the train station early in the morning. When I told her my plan, she appeared supportive, but I know she questions my decision. Most people would not choose to live that way, but then again, she knows I'm not most people.

The train whistle blows and I take a step towards the door, but she touches my shoulder.

"I hope you and Gale are able to work through your issues," she says. "You're good for one another—you two remind me of what I had with your father long ago."

The unexpected and causal mention of my father takes me my surprise. I try to turn away to hide the effect her words have on me, but she holds me tight and continues, "I know you're independent, but sometimes it's nice to have someone by your side. To share in the joys and help each other through the difficult times…" Her words drift off and I know she's thinking about my father—what she'll never be able to have again.

I nod and fight off the memories of the joys and difficult times that Gale and I have already shared. But I can't think of those, of him, it's just too painful.

She smiles and wraps her arms around me in a hug. "Eventually you'll realize what you're looking for," she says before letting me go.

Her words confuse me—I'm not looking for anything. I start to ask her what she means, but the whistle blows again, this time as the final warning. I pick up my bag and dart onto the car just before the door closes. I stand there looking out at her as we pull away. Concern etches the lines around her eyes and mouth. It bothers me that she's concerned about me—I haven't seen that since before my father died.

The train trip is uneventful. I spend the entire time in my cabin, not once venturing out to meet the other passengers. When we're finally approaching the District 12 station late on the seventh day of the trip, I open the curtains to see the place I left over a year ago. It looks very different, but is still recognizable.

We pass by the mine and I notice that it's open again, although it seems like significant improvements have been made. The entrance appears more substantial and the elevator is now made of metal, not wood. A string of men stand in line to descend into its depths. But unlike before, these men look happy, content. Like they chose this job to support their families, not that they were forced into it.

Beyond the mine, I can just barely see the houses of the Seam. Most are still in rubble, although it looks like one is being rebuilt.

In town, all of the storefronts have been restored, except for the bakery. I eye the wreckage that remains and remember the family destroyed by the revolution. My boy with the bread. I wonder what he'd be doing right now if he were here. Would he reopen the bakery? Probably. He'd either do that or start painting fulltime. I smile, remembering his stunning creations.

After exiting the train, I move to a road on the outskirts of town to avoid most of the people. I'm not interested in seeing or talking to anyone. When I get to my usual hole in the fence, I slip through and easily make it to the cabin, even in the dimming light.

It's refreshing to be back in my woods. The woods that I know as well as the back of my hand. Inside the cabin, I empty my backpack and sit on the cot, expecting to feel the sense of tranquility I used to have here. But I don't. I scowl as I try to place the emotions running through me. Perhaps it's just exhaustion from my lack of sleep for weeks and the long trip. I curl into a ball and cover myself with the well-worn sleeping bag that we left here, pulling it up to my chin. But I immediately recognize Gale's scent. Groaning, I throw it on the floor before tossing and turning for hours until I eventually fall into a nightmare-riddled sleep.

I'm thankful when the sun finally begins rising and I can go outside. I sit along the bank of the pond and watch the pink sky gradually change to orange and then fade to blue. But even the beauty of nature doesn't shake that annoying feeling that's tugging at me.

I spend the rest of the day hunting and then cooking my catch. The night progresses the same as last night. When the sun's rays land on my face on the second morning in the cabin, I finally place the nagging feeling. It's loneliness. I never thought I needed anyone else, but after a week of seclusion on the train and two nights in the cabin, I'm bored and lonely. Even though I rarely talked to my co-workers or mother, apparently their presence was welcomed.

I groan at my realization. This is going to make a simple life in the woods significantly more difficult. Giving in to my emotions, I decide to head back to the district. Maybe I'll run into Sae. Plus, I have a little extra money and could use a few supplies anyway.

Two hours later, I pass under the hole in the fence and make my way to the Hob. It's no longer a provisional campground for the homeless, but rather back to a marketplace. And it's active. Opposite the Hob is a new wooden structure that looks temporary. I slip around the edge of the building and look through a window. The walls are lined with bunks, each with a small trunk at the foot of the bed. It appears to be a more suitable homeless shelter.

I move to the back of the building and follow the alley, planning to visit the site of my childhood home, but when I'm two houses away, what I see takes my breath away and stops me dead in my tracks.


	39. Chapter 37

I didn't expect to see him again, but the silhouette in front of me is unmistakable. He's holding up a wall of supports as someone else nails it in place. I stand there mesmerized, watching him command the scene. He's clearly in charge, telling others what to do, but there's camaraderie, too. They're telling jokes and laughing as they work.

What is he doing here? And how can he be happy? He actually looks more than happy—like he's totally in his element. I've been miserable since I left Gale and now he's here building a house and laughing like he hasn't a care in the world.

My chest tightens as I watch him. I've been distraught for two months over the pain I caused him. I've rehearsed in my mind over and over what I would say if I ever saw him again. How I would apologize. But, I always thought he would still be angry. I never imagined finding him like this.

Two children are approaching me from the other end of the alley, so I slip behind a tree and then quickly haul myself onto one of its lower branches. From here I can observe Gale without much risk of being spotted.

I sit in my perch the rest of the day, watching him erect walls, pour cement, and pipe in plumbing. The whole time I can't help but wonder where he learned how to do this. And what he's doing here. He's supposed to be helping Paylor with her campaign. At dusk, he walks around and gives everyone an envelope, which they accept with grateful smiles.

After Gale has disappeared down the main road, back towards the Hob, I lower myself from the tree and backtrack to the hole in the fence. I climb through and make the hike to the cabin. Once there, I think about what happened today and how I feel about it. But all I can come up with is confusion. Confusion over why Gale is back in District 12. Confusion over why I sat in a tree watching him the entire day. Confusion as to exactly what I'm feeling for him right now.

The next morning, after yet another sleepless night, I grab my bow and set out to find breakfast. I quickly kill a squirrel and return to the cabin to clean and cook it. While finishing my meager breakfast, I contemplate a plan for the day. I could go for a swim or set some traps. Or go back to the district. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, my feet begin moving, carrying me down the familiar path in about half the time it normally takes. I slink through the alley again and take refuge back in my tree, just as Gale and a number of other people arrive at the partially-built house.

This stalking becomes a routine for me—roll out of bed with the sun, quick breakfast, hike into the district, hide in a tree all day, and then hike back to the cabin, killing dinner along the way.

I've been doing it for four days now. I'm in my usual spot mid-morning when I yawn loudly, my lack of sleep catching up with me. Or, frankly, it could be the fairly boring scene playing out in front of me for the fourth day straight. I think about what I've accomplished since I've been back. I've watched Gale. I've seen that he's happy. I've learned that he knows how to build a house. I've seen that he seems to have an admirer who stops by for lunch every day, although he always turns her down. But that's it. I still don't know what happened in the Capitol or between him and Paylor. Am I ever going to get that by watching him from afar? And watching him doesn't fill the hole in my chest that appeared the day I left and grew bigger and bigger each and every day after that. In the last week, it's tripled in size with him so close, but still unreachable. I miss talking to him. Laughing with him. Sitting next to him.

I realize I need to come up with a plan. I can't continue to stalk him. Maybe I should just go talk to him. We've been friends for years; surely we can work through what happened that last afternoon… the afternoon I broke his heart. I sigh because I can't imagine him forgiving me. I wouldn't blame him for not forgiving me. I don't forgive myself. I gave him hope and then took it away without even a backward glance. But then again, he seems so happy. Maybe he's already forgotten about it. Maybe he's found someone else. Maybe we can fall right into our old routine. With that thought, I quickly lower myself from the tree and walk purposefully towards the house before I can change my mind.

When I reach the front of the property, he spots me. His eyes narrow, and he purses his lips. He has on clean clothes and has grown a short, well-groomed beard. It doesn't appear he's had a haircut since the one I gave him in the Capitol. He looks like the Gale I'm used to. The Gale from our cabin. He stands before me staring, and I have to remind myself that things have changed.

I approach him cautiously. When I'm about five feet away, he says, "What do you want?" His tone is not welcoming.

I pause at both his attitude and question. What do I want? Why did I come here? Why have I been spying on him? I don't have time to think of answers to all of these questions with him staring at me, though.

"Can I help?" I ask.

"Help?"

I nod. "Build your house."

"Why?"

That's another good question. What am I doing? Two months ago I left Gale, only to show up here unexpected. What kind of mixed messages am I sending him?

When I don't respond, he says, "So, you're just a helpful townsperson coming by to work on my house?"

I recoil at his malevolent tone. "Friend?" I suggest quietly.

"Friend?!" He's now glaring at me with wide eyes, as if he can't believe what I just said. "And why would we be friends?"

"We've always been friends…"

He shakes his head in disgust. "I'm really not interested in being friends with someone who treats me the way you did."

He turns on his heal and stalks away from me, running his hand through his hair.

He's leaving me; walking out of my life this time. I can't let him go.

"I'm sorry!" I yell to his retreating figure.

He slows, but doesn't face me.

"Gale, I'm sorry. I mean it!"

He twists around to look at me. "What exactly are you sorry about?"

"I'm… sorry I hurt you."

"And now you want what?"

"Things to go back to the way they were."

"Back to friends?"

I nod slowly.

"You're unbelievable, Katniss!"

He turns and stomps around the side of the structure, leaving me standing in the middle of the front yard as his construction crew tries to busy themselves after clearly witnessing our interaction.

I spend the rest of the day across the street, sitting on a pile of wood that used to be a house. Gale glances in my direction periodically, but never approaches me. At the end of the day, he passes out the envelopes and walks back towards the Hob without saying a word to me.

The next morning I return to my spot before anyone else has arrived. I don't really have a plan, but I figure Gale can't ignore me forever. And sitting here is better than sitting in the tree or by myself back at the cabin.

Less than half an hour later, Gale strolls up the street chatting with one of the other guys who's been working with him. The other guy nods to me as they pass by, but Gale continues staring straight ahead, as though I don't even exist.

Completely annoyed by his behavior, I yell at his back, "Good morning, Gale!"

He raises his hand in a rude gesture and continues inside the framed structure. I smile. A rude gesture is better than nothing. I feel like I might be making some progress.

By mid-morning, I'm bored. Gale's been working on the backside of the house all day so I haven't seen him once. I pick up a small stone and lob it in front of me. Then I grab another one and toss it, trying to hit the first one I threw. By the time I've thrown five pebbles, my accuracy is perfect, and I need something else to occupy my mind. I look up, just as the man who walked in with Gale this morning steps in front of me.

"I'm Lee," he says, sitting down.

"Katniss," I say, shaking his extended hand.

He nods. Of course he knows who I am.

"Do you still want to help with construction?"

"Yes, what can I do?" I ask eagerly.

"See George over there—the guy with the hat and suspenders?" he says, pointing to a large, dark-skinned man who's leveling concrete.

"Yeah."

"You can help him."

"Okay, great," I say, actually excited that I have something to do.

After an hour, it's clear that George is a no-nonsense guy. He provides instructions, but that's all. There's no conversation whatsoever, which I would normally like, but I was kind of hoping to learn something about Gale. Like where he learned construction and why he's doing it, rather than helping Paylor get elected.

Every now and again I try to entice George into conversation.

"So, how do you know Gale?" I ask.

He grunts in reply.

"Are you originally from District 12?"

Grunt.

"Do you have a family?"

Grunt.

If he hadn't taught me how to level concrete earlier, I'd seriously be wondering if he were an Avox.

When George pulls out his lunch pail, I know it's my chance to ask Lee for a new partner. I walk through the construction site trying to find him. When I get to the back of the house, I see Gale talking to someone. I peak around a beam—it's the girl with shiny blond hair who's been coming here every day. Today she has on an expensive-looking yellow dress that shows off way too much of her long legs.

I walk closer to hear their conversation.

"I'm not sure," Gale says blandly.

"Oh, okay," she says in a sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice.

I move closer to see her better, and accidentally trip over a pipe jutting out of the floor. Luckily, my hand lands on a nearby beam, preventing me from falling on my face. Both Gale and the girl turn to see the source of the commotion.

I wave nervously. "Sorry. Gale, have you seen Lee?"

"I'll be right with you, Katniss," he says, turning back to the girl. "Actually, lunch today would be fantastic." And he grins from ear to ear.

"Oh, wonderful! I'll set everything up. Just come out when you're ready!"

I watch as the energetic girl skips to a basket and blanket lying on the ground, not far from her. She rolls out the blanket and then begins pulling out various dishes and setting them on the blanket. All the while, she's humming.

"Who's Ms. Perky over there?" I ask, nodding in her direction.

"Colette," he says. "You should know her. She was in your class at school."

I shrug. I don't remember many people from school, probably because I wasn't close to anyone, other than Gale.

"Why do you need Lee?" he asks.

"I've been working with George this morning and I was hoping to move on to another partner."

Gale rolls his eyes. "Why are you working with George?" he asks with a sigh.

"Lee said I could," I reply smugly.

"And why don't you want to work with him anymore?"

"I think I've mastered concrete leveling. It's time to move on to something more challenging."

He actually laughs and then says, "You know I don't want you here, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm working for Lee, not you."

"Lee works for me."

"Sounds like you two have some issues to work through then."

The corner of his lip twitches a little and I think he's on the verge of smiling at me. But then he quickly plasters the frown back on his face.

"I don't know where Lee is. Probably at lunch. And that's where I need to go. I have a _date_," he says, nodding towards Colette.

I didn't bring lunch with me so I just relax under a shade tree while I wait for Lee. I slouch back like I'm taking a nap, but keep my eyes fixed on Gale and Colette the whole time. The conversation must be riveting because she keeps touching his hand and giggling.

Finally they finish, and Gale gets back to work. A few minutes later, I see Lee walking down the street. I stand up to head in his direction, but Gale intercepts him. I'm temporarily worried Lee's going to get yelled at because of me, but he just ends up laughing at something Gale says and then continues walking in my direction.

"Ready to get back to work?" he asks when he reaches me.

"Sure," I respond, following him. After a moment, I ask, "What did Gale say to you?"

"He said I had to work with you."

"Why?"

"Because I brought you in. He didn't think it'd be fair to submit any of the other employees to your… attitude."

"_My_ attitude?" I stand with my hands on my hips. Gale's the only one who's had an attitude the last two days.

Lee laughs. "Let's just get to work, okay?"

We spend the afternoon framing a room while Gale works on plumbing in the adjacent room. I desperately want to ask Lee some questions, but Gale's within ten feet of us the entire time and I know he'll hear our conversation.

"Hey, can I get a hand here?" Gale asks over his shoulder to no one in particular as he holds two pieces of wood together in a T-shape. Lee's talking to someone, so I crawl through two beams of the frame and stand at his side.

"What do you need?"

He glances up at me and his lips turn downward. He's clearly unhappy that I'm the one helping him. "Can you just nail these together?"

"Of course." I quickly pound in two nails, pleased that Lee already taught me proper technique.

"How's that?"

"Fine." He keeps his voice even, but by the way he's inspecting my work, I think he's rather impressed. I smile.

"Need anything else?" I ask.

"No."

The rest of the afternoon is quiet. Gale doesn't ask for any additional help, but he also doesn't wander far enough away for me to talk to Lee privately.

Once we're packed up for the evening, Lee says, "See you tomorrow, Katniss."

"You're coming back?" Gale asks me with a scowl.

"Of course. I'm a valued member of the team."

"No. You're not. You're not even a _member_ of the team," Gale says with annoyance.

"I'd have to disagree," Lee says. "She's pretty handy with a hammer."

I beam at his compliment, as Gale rolls his neck and then pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"See you tomorrow," I say.


	40. Chapter 38

In the morning, I'm the first to arrive at the worksite again. It's easy since I don't really sleep and have nothing else to do. I left the cabin before dawn and made it here just as the sun began rising.

Lee walks up a few minutes after me.

"Eager to get started?' he asks.

I shrug. "I didn't have much of anything else going on."

"You look tired."

"Sleep's overrated."

He shoots me a questioning look, but says nothing. I follow him inside the structure and then we weave our way around wooden beams to reach the room we were in yesterday. I watch him while he adjusts his tool belt.

"Where's Gale?" I ask.

"Waiting for a shipment at the train station."

He hands me a tool belt, complete with hammer, screwdriver, and a collection of different sized nails. "Put this on. It'll make you look like you belong here."

"Thanks," I say fastening the clasp. "But, you're going to lose your job if you're not careful."

He laughs. "I don't think Gale really means anything he's said to you."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Lee stops hauling a large wooden board and locks eyes with me. "What exactly did you do to him?"

I shrug and grab onto the wood to help him move it. "It's not important."

"Well, I hope my assumption is right because I've got good money riding on this."

I drop the board, and it narrowly misses my foot as it slams to the ground. "What?"

"Come on—the boss has some serious girl problems—you didn't think we'd all just ignore that did you?"

"You're betting on what our issue is?!"

"And the outcome," he says with sly grin.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I try so hard to be a private person and now there's a bunch of people, mostly guys, I don't know and they're all talking about me and Gale. How do I get myself into these situations?

"This is wrong," I say. "You shouldn't take pleasure in other people's misery."

"Oh, lighten up. I'm sure the misery's not going to last much longer anyway."

As angry as I am with these people, I can't help it—my curiosity gets the best of me. "What's everyone saying?"

"Well, there are a few guys who didn't know Gale from way back and they still think you're cousins. For the most part, they believe the issue has to do with money—you took what you could after the hearing and then left him high and dry in the Capitol."

"That's ridiculous! Neither of us had any money. And even if we did, I'd never do something like that!"

"That's why I'm betting you broke his heart," he says, pulling another board in front of us.

I freeze. Is it that obvious?

"I'm right!" he says, excitement bringing his face alive. "Well, it seems you have some big time groveling to do if I'm to make any money off of this."

"And that's really what it's all about," I murmur.

He laughs and starts nailing two pieces of wood together.

Half an hour later, I'm still inwardly fuming over what I learned when Lee lifts his head and says, "Looks like the groveling can begin." I follow his gaze and see Gale walking down the street, pulling a handcart loaded with sheets of drywall.

After Gale stores the drywall along the side of the house, he comes to the room where Lee and I are working. He watches me carefully as I line up large boards. His silent, watchful eyes start to annoy me.

"What's your problem, Gale?" I ask, dropping the board a little harder than necessary.

Lee clears his throat. I glance in his direction and he mouths the word, 'grovel.'

I roll my eyes.

Gale finally says, "You're working with me today, Katniss."

I can't hide the smile that reflexively spreads across my face. "Why?"

"I don't need any more gossip at the worksite," he says, giving Lee a disapproving stare. It's good to know he's heard what's going on, too.

I follow Gale outside. "You really shouldn't let your employees talk about you behind your back."

"It wasn't a problem until you showed up."

"Of course. I'm the root of all your problems…"

He clenches his jaw, but remains quiet as he directs me to a sawhorse behind the house.

We spend the morning working side-by-side, sawing and hammering. Just like always, we make a great team, effortlessly dividing up work and knowing, without exchanging a word, when the other person needs help. By mid-morning his gruff exterior has softened a little—his face is back to a neutral expression, rather than the scowl he's been wearing for the past day and a half.

I pause in the middle of sawing a board to wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.

"Here," he says, handing me a water bottle. It's the same bottle we used for months in the woods. Between the familiarity of that and the first kind gesture he's made since I've been here, I feel my confidence growing. Perhaps he's ready to talk to me.

"When did you learn to build a house?" I ask, handing the bottle back to him.

He removes it from my hand and takes three long gulps of his own before saying anything.

"I've picked up a few things here and there," he replies, placing the bottle on the ground and picking up his hammer.

I follow him to a nearby frame he's assembling. "Why aren't you in the Capitol?"

He stops hammering and turns to me. "Why would I be in the Capitol?"

"Helping Paylor with her campaign…"

He appears genuinely confused. "I finished my service requirement over a month ago."

"You didn't want to stay?"

"Why would I stay?" He picks up a nail and puts it between his teeth as he moves to the next support.

"Paylor wanted you to be involved in politics."

"She wanted a lot of things from me," he says through gritted teeth, around the nail.

"What do you want?"

He spits out the nail. "What's with the inquisition, Katniss?"

"I'm…. just trying to figure out some things."

"What things?"

I shrug.

"Clearly something is going on. You can either tell me or keep asking these elusive questions and try to piece it together yourself."

"Are you happy?" I ask, tilting my head to the side as I study his profile.

"Piece it together it is," he mumbles under his breath. "I'm happy with all aspects of my life except one."

He turns his face so his eyes meet mine, challenging me to ask the follow-up question.

I remain quiet the rest of the morning.

Around lunchtime, I glance up from the piece of wood I've been sawing to find Colette, in a pink sundress, walking our way.

Annoyed, I ask Gale, "Does she come here every day?"

"Yes. She seems to be quite smitten by me," he says and then strolls down to meet her.

I ignore his comment and stalk off to my shade tree. Today, he sits closer to her. She folds her legs underneath herself and leans into him, her shoulder touching his. He says something and she giggles before handing him another sandwich. He says something else and she giggles again. I'm beginning to question her sense of humor because he's really not that funny.

After lunch, Gale and I are taking turns digging a hole for a new post. I watch him as I rest. He's shirt is soaked through with sweat, clinging to his arms and chest. His muscles ripple, as he hauls up large shovelfuls of dirt. There's a small crease between his brows as he concentrates on what he's doing. After tossing the dirt aside, he glimpses my way and a small smile slowly spreads across his face when he realizes I've been watching him.

"What are you looking at?"

I blush. "You really shouldn't lead Colette on like that."

"Who says I'm leading her on?" he asks, digging the shovel back into the hole.

"Seriously? You can't be interested in her."

"Why not? She's beautiful and nice. Plus she makes an amazing chicken salad."

"Hmm… that's very important."

A few moments later, I say, "Do you two have anything in common?"

He stops what he's doing and stands the shovel in front of him. He rests his arms on top of the handle and eyes me thoughtfully. "Why do you have so much interest in this?"

I drop the conversation.

That evening, as we're wrapping up our work, Colette comes prancing down the street again. I give an annoyed sigh, but Gale perks up and runs down to meet her. She lights up and begins talking enthusiastically with him. He nods at something she says, and she actually hops and claps her hands. I roll my eyes, wondering how long Gale will put up with this. Then, he reaches towards her face and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

My mouth drops open. I had assumed this was all to spite me. That he wasn't really interested in her—he was just getting back at me for everything I've done to him. But the way his hand lingered on her face makes me wonder. My blood pressure rises as I realize my simple annoyance at Colette is turning into something stronger. I kick a nearby tree, irritated that my emotions are betraying me. I told Gale that I didn't want him, I told him to find someone better, but yet as soon as there's the first indication he might have, I can't handle it. What is wrong with me?

Gale and Colette turn and walk down the street together, without a word or even a backward glance in my direction. I thought we were making progress today, but apparently Gale's mind has been on other things.

I take my time getting back to the cabin. My sudden shift in mood towards Colette bothers me more than it should. I told Gale I wanted things to go back to the way they were. To friends. As a friend, I shouldn't expect his world to revolve around me. Shouldn't expect him to remember to say goodbye to me when he's got… what exactly is Colette? An admirer—yes. More than that? I didn't think so, but now I'm not so sure.

Back at the cabin, I use my long night to think about the situation. I know I miss Gale. Really miss Gale. In the Capitol, I was ready to spend my life with him—it wasn't until Paylor interfered that I changed my mind. Did I let her feed my insecurities? Did I run away too quickly, too willingly? I let her convince me that I could damage his life, that I wasn't good enough for him. But what if that's not true? What if that wasn't even the life he wanted?

I think back to the past two months and how empty I've felt. It wasn't until I unexpectedly found Gale a few days ago that my life took on purpose again. He brings out the best in me. Unfortunately, he also tends to brings out the worst in me, but that in and of itself must mean something. What would I do if he and Colette got married? Thinking about that question is what finally sets my course. I know what I need to do. The butterflies in my stomach are a clear indication of how worried I am about his reaction, though.

The next morning, I'm still nervous as I arrive at the worksite. Gale is already there, pouring cement into the holes we dug yesterday.

"Good morning," I say.

"Morning," he replies, not bothering to look up from what he's doing.

I wrap my tool belt around my waist and stand by his side.

"What can I do?"

"Make more cement."

I haul a heavy bag of mix into my arms and then pour the correct amount into a bucket. I place the hose in the bucket and watch Gale as I wait for it to fill.

"Where'd you and Colette go last night?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

He smiles at me. "You sure have a lot of interest in Colette."

"Just wondering what guys and girls do for fun around here these days."

"Same thing they've always done."

That doesn't make me feel any better. Entertainment has never really been an option in District 12, which means dates inevitably lead to something I don't even want to consider having happening between Gale and Colette.

"You're about to overflow," Gale says, nodding towards my bucket.

I jerk my head up and snatch the hose away, just as the water reaches the top. He's still watching me when I turn back around to face him.

"Guess you had a great night, then," I say. I fight to keep my face impassive, but the pain I feel is real. What if I'm too late?

He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but clamps it shut before any words escape.

I lean down to pour the excess water out of the bucket. When I start mixing the cement, he says, "No, I didn't. I went straight to the shelter and fell asleep early."

Then he walks away and joins a group of guys who have just arrived. He begins giving out assignments for the day and laughing with them like he always does.

I revel in that one little parting comment. That comment gives me the strength I need to move forward with my plan. There is definitely still hope.

On cue, Colette approaches the worksite at lunchtime. I know this is my chance. It's now or never.

Gale is in front of the house, while I'm along the left side. He glances to me and then to her. I close the gap to him in a few short strides and stare into his eyes determinedly. His mouth parts, but he remains quiet. I hold his face firmly in my hands and lower my lips to his. He's passive at first, his lips providing no resistance against mine. But, as I kiss him with more urgency, he responds. When he lays his hands on my hips, I pull away.

"What the hell?" he asks.

I glimpse at Colette, who's only about twenty feet away now. She has stopped suddenly, her mouth gaping. Then I see Gale's crew; they're staring at us, too. And I'm pretty sure Lee just gave me a thumbs-up.

"I don't approve of Colette for you," I say.

"And why do you think your opinion matters?"

"Because I have someone else in mind."

His eyes widen, but he can't say anything because Colette has started approaching us again.

She seems baffled, her eyes darting between the two of us. Eventually, she focuses on Gale and says, "Hi Gale. I brought lunch." She looks at him expectantly, "Are you free today?"

Gale turns to me. "I'm not sure. Katniss, am I free for lunch today?"

Our eyes meet with a burning intensity. My answer here reveals my true feelings, our future. I lick my lips and face Colette. "I'm sorry Colette, but Gale has other plans."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gale suppress a smile. I grab his hand and hold it firmly.

Her eyes move from me to Gale, and then back to me, confusion clear on her face.

I step in front of Gale and he wraps his free arm around my waist.

"Y-You two?" she says. "But you're cousins!"

Gale laughs. "We're not cousins."

She wrinkles her nose and focuses on me. "What about Peeta? You loved Peeta. How can you do this to him?"

"Peeta would want us to be happy. He would wish us well."

Gale squeezes my hand.

"B—But I brought chicken salad, your favorite…" her voice trails off.

"Sorry, maybe some other time. Maybe the three of us can hang out sometime," Gale says, trying to lighten the mood.

"Sure, of course," she replies, already walking backwards. "I'll be in touch about that." Then she turns on her heel and practically runs away from us. I think I hear her sniffling.

"I kind of feel bad," I say, turning to face Gale.

"Don't worry about it. A few of the guys have had their eyes on her since she's been coming around here. She'll find someone else in no time."

"I think she had her heart set on you, though."

"And what do you have your heart set on, Katniss?"

I bite my lower lip. "You," I whisper.

"Really?" he asks with trepidation.

I nod.

"Prove it."

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his lips gently.

He pulls away. "That doesn't prove anything. You've kissed me before only to rebuke me in your next breath."

We stand there staring at each other intently. He doesn't trust me. I desperately want him to believe me. But after everything I've put him through, I don't blame him. I chew on my lip, considering my options. But I know there's only one thing that will prove it to him. It's the one thing he wants. The one thing he needs. The one thing that I hold closest to my heart. This time I won't say it too late.

"I love you, Gale."

THE END

* * *

**A/N: A few things: **

******If you enjoyed this story, please consider "Favoriting" it, if you haven't done so already. **

**I have an epilogue in my head, but am hesitant to put it on paper because sometimes it's nice for the readers to come up with their own vision of what happens. But, if you really want to read my thoughts, let me know and I can share that with you. I'd also be interested in hearing your ideas-please leave them as a review and maybe I'll pull in some of your details into mine! **

**For any Peeta fans who are still with me, what did you think? Has your opinion of Gale changed? I don't expect you to have become Team Gale, but do you at least like him a little more? **

**And most importantly, I want to thank everyone who shared in this journey with me! This is my first full-length story and it has been quite the adventure. I especially want to thank those of you who provided consistent and thoughtful reviews, as well as encouragement. You have made this a real pleasure and I'm going to miss interacting with y'all regularly. THANK YOU!**


	41. Epilogue

My nervousness over how Gale would react was unfounded. As soon as I told him the words he'd waited years to hear, the closeness we once shared immediately returned. I'm grateful, and somewhat surprised, that he forgave me so easily considering what I had done to him. Of course, every now and again, he'll still hold it over my head if we have a disagreement. He knows I'll immediately relent as soon as he reminds me of the afternoon in the Capitol when I brutally broke his heart. I think I will forever feel guilty about that.

The day I finally admitted my true feelings, Gale moved into the cabin with me. We lived there for three months while we finished his house—our house. As soon as the final shingle was hung, we had a small, traditional District 12 wedding ceremony with our families and Haymitch. I'll never forget the way he looked that day. He was my Gale—the man from the cabin—with the largest, ear-to-ear grin I have ever seen. His exuberance, his bliss was infectious and still is today.

I was relieved to finally fill in the gaps of those few months when we were apart. Deep in my heart, there was always the fear that Gail had run to Paylor for consolation after I left. But he admitted that he never even considered seeing her in that way again. Surprising us both, she sent a beautiful wedding gift—an exquisite handcrafted set of matching bows, his and hers. I've only seen her once since that time in the stairwell, though. It was two years ago when she was visiting the district during her re-election campaign. I was in the back of the crowd, leaning against a wall when her eyes met mine. The hint of a smile spread across her face and she nodded politely. I'm not sure I'll ever truly understand her—generous one moment, driving me away the next. Perhaps she really did just want what was best for Gale and genuinely believed that required me leaving.

It also surprised me to learn that after I left, Gale had spent only one day on Paylor's campaign before realizing he no longer felt the passion he once had for politics. Against Paylor's wishes, he transferred his service requirement to the rebuilding effort. Apparently, before I ever knew Gale, he and his father were very active in construction and actually helped build a number of my neighbor's houses in the Seam. The construction crew he selected in the Capitol specialized in novel building techniques in order to provide low-cost, high-efficiency, environmentally-friendly construction to maximize the use of our limited resources.

After he completed his service with that company, he applied to the Cabinet for a grant to assess the feasibility of bringing those same building principles and sensibilities to the districts. They agreed, giving him funds to complete one house as a trial. Because he was so successful with our house, the Cabinet agreed to hire him to rebuild additional houses in the Seam. Gradually, his team grew and now, five years later, he owns the largest construction company east of the Capitol and has crews in three districts. I split my time between helping him and hunting, providing enough game for us and all of his employees.

By far, my favorite day of the week is Sunday, just like it was years ago, because it's the day that Gale joins me in the woods. Sometimes we hunt, sometimes we sit lazily on our rock enjoying blackberries, and sometimes we spend the afternoon in our cabin, enjoying each other's company and reliving the memories of when we fell in love.

We both anticipate our hikes and my hunting time will decrease over the next few months though, as we're currently expecting our first child. I didn't think I'd ever see Gale more pleased than he was on our wedding day, but I was wrong. The morning I told him I was pregnant, he broke down in tears of joy. And now he can't keep his hands off my ever expanding belly. He constantly rests his head on my lap, talking to our child and even singing. Although he's completely tone deaf, I'm awestruck by the overflowing love he showers upon us.

I'm feeling particularly tired today, so I curl up in bed while I wait for Gale to come home from work. His most recent project is renovating some houses in the Victor's Village because a few of the more wealthy townspeople are hoping to move up there. Since I have no desire to even step foot in that place, I've been spending more time in the woods, which is starting to exhaust me.

Just as my eyes are about to close, I hear the front door open.

"Gale?" I ask.

He appears in the bedroom doorway moments later. One look at me in bed and he rushes to my side, placing his hand on my forehead. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I reassure him. "Just tired."

I notice that he's holding one hand behind his back. "What have you got?" I ask nodding to his arm.

He beams. "A surprise."

"Surprise?"

"Yes, from the construction site."

I flinch. "You know I don't want anything from there."

"Why don't you look at it before you make that decision?"

He brings his arm around, and he's holding a thick leather bound book. I know what it is right away. I open the cover and run my fingers along the delicate drawing on the first page. I immediately see his face as he concentrated on bringing my vision to life. It's the plant book that Peeta and I worked on so diligently.

"Still want me to throw it out?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I had forgotten about this," I whisper. I continue flipping pages, remembering how he looked when he drew each and every image. Remembering the conversations we had and the way we laughed when his drawing looked nothing like I thought I was describing and we had to start over again.

But unlike the picture I so desperately clung to in the early days, I know this isn't an extension of Peeta, it's just a way to help me remember him. A way for our child to see what a great artist our friend Peeta was. I'll cherish this forever.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gale unlaces his boots and then crawls next to me. When he lays his head on my lap, I place the book on the side table and watch my husband absently rub his hand over my belly.

"If it's a boy, I think we should name him Ezekiel," Gale says.

I run my fingers through his hair. This is about the fiftieth name he's suggested.

"Maybe," I murmur, knowing there's no way I'll agree to that.

"Or Zachary…"

"That's better," I say quietly, my eyelids drooping.

He wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes. "Thank you, Katniss Everdeen," he whispers, pulling his head up alongside mine. I grin at the use of my maiden name—he only does that when he's recounting a playful moment from our past.

"For what?"

"For making me the happiest man in the world," he replies, kissing my cheek.

"Thank you, Gale Hawthorne," I say, mirroring his words, as he lays his head on my shoulder.

I feel his lips curl into a smile. "For what?"

"For convincing me to finally let myself be happy."

He laughs softly. "I think we may owe Colette for that."

"Well, thank you for going above and beyond the call of duty to make me insanely jealous," I say with a yawn.

"I do what I can, Catnip." He wraps his arms around me in the way he always has, comforting me, and helping me drift off to a calm and peaceful night of sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone for reading my story. Also, I try to reply to everyone who has reviewed, but if I missed you, I apologize and do want to make sure you know how much I appreciate it. I'd also like to take a moment to thank everyone who left anonymous reviews-it means a lot to me that you took the time to let me know what you thought! **

**And one last thing, I'm currently working on an original story and was wondering if anyone knows of a similar forum for posting original work? This has been a wonderful experience, and I really value the feedback I've recieved. It would be great to be able to do something similar with my original story. If one doesn't exist, I'm considering just posting it on my website, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading it :) **

**If you're interested, here's the prologue and start of chapter 1 to give you a taste of my original story...**

Prologue

"No!" I scream into the hand clasped over my mouth. I bite the fleshy part of his palm and feel hot gel ooze onto my chin as my mouth registers the acidic contents of his blood. He immediately releases.

"Dammit, Veya!" he whispers.

Ignoring him, I spring up and reach for the lever on the door. But he's faster than me, has always been faster, and is able to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me to the back of the storage compartment.

"Let go!" I yell. "I have to find my mom!"

"There's nothing you can do. She's gone. If you go out there, they'll take you, too!"

I strike his chest with my fist, but despite the impressive bruise that I know will be there tomorrow, he doesn't flinch. He grabs my arms and holds them by my side.

"I can help!" I say through gritted teeth.

"Not this time."

I struggle against his hold, but he just grasps me even more firmly. I cry out in frustration and collapse to the floor of the small space. Something warm, wet, and very unexpected rolls out of the corner of my eye.

Concern and shock transform his familiar face into something foreign. His brow furrows, his lips part. It's because he's never seen me cry. Because I don't cry. This is exactly the second time in my life that tears have rolled down these cheeks—the first being the day I realized I didn't belong here.

Chapter 1

"Name?"

"Aveyana Brendall," I say, keeping my face blank. I feel my dad's commanding presence behind me, and I know he wears the same benign expression.

The man seated in front of me begins flipping through stapled pages, quickly scanning the names contained on each sheet.

"Brendall, with a B?" he asks, still shuffling though the printouts.

"Yes."

After a moment, he raises his head, his eyes meeting mine for the first time. His businesslike façade shifts and I suddenly feel uncomfortable. Not out of fear that he's figured us out, but because the look is familiar. Too familiar. It's the same way Tasher looks at me—or, rather, looked at me. I remind myself once more that I'll never see him again.

I keep my face impassive and, as quick as the look appeared on the man's face, it disappears. "I'm sorry, Miss Brendall, but I don't see your name on the list."

"We were added to the flight at the last minute," my dad says, stepping next to me. "Perhaps we're in the computer…"

The man nods, and I hear fast-paced typing as he searches for us. My dad remains at my side. To anyone else, he would seem relaxed, calm, even happy. But I know better. I feel the tension, the worry he has. His entire plan revolves around this one moment. If they don't allow us into the compound then we'll be forced to return home and face the danger that lurks there.

"Ah, yes. Here you are. And you must be David Brendall," the man says, glancing at my dad.

"Yes."

"We don't have a living complex assignment for you yet. Please make yourselves comfortable in the receiving area and once everyone is checked in, I'll take you to Facilities. Welcome to Pangalax Station," he says, already looking to the next person in line.

We take our meager belongings, one bag each, and move to a cluster of benches along the far wall. While we sit, I watch the man who checked us in. He retains his very businesslike demeanor, and I wonder if my earlier impression of his reaction to me was incorrect. Perhaps I imagined it. Perhaps my subconscious is trying to make me remember Tasher despite my conscious effort to quash him from my thoughts forever.

But it's ridiculous that I would see Tasher in this man—they are nothing alike. This man has lost the lankiness of teenage years and must be in his early twenties. Plus he has broad shoulders, thick muscles that flex against his shirtsleeves, and skin reminiscent of the dark chocolate my father always gave me on special occasions. His hair is short, practically nonexistent, and his eyes are obsidian, but sparkle under the fluorescent lights. When he stands, I see that he's tall, too. He'd likely tower over my five foot one frame by at least a foot and a half.

He turns slightly and catches me watching him. His lips curl into a smile, showing bright, perfectly aligned teeth. He nods and then returns to the long line of new residents. I inwardly chastise myself and glimpse at my dad to see if he witnessed what just happened. Luckily, his thoughts seem to be elsewhere. How am I supposed to blend in if I'm caught staring at the first person I meet? I take a deep breath and remind myself to focus on no one or nothing in particular.

"David, it's so nice to see you again!"

The booming voice startles me. Across the room, a tall, thin, and lively woman waves in our direction. She rushes over to us, her short-cropped brown hair bouncing with each step. My dad embraces her as soon as she reaches us.

"And this must be your lovely daughter I've heard so much about," she says, flashing me a smile.

"Yes, Randi, this is Aveyana."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she says warmly.

I nod politely. I'm not sure how she's heard so much about me since the first I heard of her was two days ago when my dad put this plan into motion.

"Is there a problem?" she asks, glancing between us and the check-in table.

My dad says, "No, no. We were in the computer just like you said. We're just waiting for our housing assignment." Quietly, he adds, "Thank you. For everything."

"Anything for Endalia's daughter," she replies. Then she wraps her arms around me and squeezes with more force than I would've predicted out of someone from here. I lay my hands limply against her back, feeling completely uncomfortable with her gesture. After releasing me, she sits next to my father and they talk in hushed whispers, most likely formulating more of 'the plan.'


	42. News

Hi all!

I just wanted to let you know that I've been working on an original story called Pangalax. It's on fanfiction's sister site fictionpress, if you'd like to take a look. It's a romantic adventure, much like Nightlock, but with brand new characters named Aveyana and Kye whose story unfolds on a US space station. Please take a look and let me know what you think!

If I get 100 unique reviewers over there, I promise to write a follow-up to Nightlock, either the future for Gale and Katniss or a story about their child-whatever the majority here selects.

Here's the address for Pangalax:

s/3133353/1/Pangalax

www dot fictionpress dot com slash s slash 3133353 slash 1 slash Pangalax

Thanks!

Ernesto


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